


Drugs and Candy

by UnnamedFace



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bisexual Jean Kirstein, Depression, Drug Use, Eventual Fluff, Gay Marco Bott, Hospitals, M/M, More characters to be added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Possible smut, Rehabilitation, eating disorder mention, jean and eren have a complicated relationship, jean and marcos familes are OCs, jean isnt just a druggie i promise, main ship will be jean and marco but there is side jean/eren in the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:27:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnnamedFace/pseuds/UnnamedFace
Summary: My father is the mayor of Trost. And me? Well I’m his less than perfect teen son.My name is Jean Kirstein and I’m a drug addict.Jean is the mayors son and should have everything going for him, that is until he gets wrapped up in drug use. with declining health and an estranged relationship with his parents will Marco, the new kid in town, be what Jean needs to turn his life around and get back on his feet?





	1. My name is Jean Kirstein

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this, im taking a break from writing From The Ring because i've kinda lost motivation for it at this point, but i feel really good about this one right now. I've always wanted to read a fic like this but could never find one so i figured I should write one myself! that being said i hope you guys enjoy and feel free to leave any comments! If you have questions or suggestions you can reach me either on here or on my tumblr at unnamedfaceao3.tumblr.com

My father is the mayor of Trost. And me? Well I’m his less than perfect teen son.

I used to be the poster child, not the problem child to put it simply. I used to have good grades, I was involved in sports and volunteer work, I was everything the mayor’s son should have been.

At least everyone thought I was.

My name is Jean Kirstein and I’m a drug addict.

* * *

 

A year ago I left home. I’d like to say I did it because I wanted to but in reality I did it because I like it better than the alternative. My “perfect” parents gave me an ultimatum – go to rehab and get clean, or get out. I took the out.

Now I’m not saying rehab doesn’t work and it’s not worth it to try, because I did try. I went to rehab and all was fine and dandy until withdrawal hit. And it didn’t take long for that to happen. Rehab was too hard, it was too much for me. So I left and got out of the house like my parents said. Something about how “it won’t look good on your father” if the press found out the mayor’s son was a drug addict. Doesn’t matter now really, the whole town knows anyway.

Now here I am, lounging on the corner of the street wondering where I’m going to sleep tonight, but more importantly where my next dose is gonna come from.

* * *

 

“Excuse me, do you know where…” I can’t be bothered to listen, out of towners come around all the time looking for directions and it’s always more of a pain to tell them where to go than it is to just tune them out.

But oh, those freckles and brown eyes reflecting in the sun, shining kind of like a bottle of whiskey held up to the light are hard to ignore.

“Uh I’m sorry I didn’t catch that.” I can feel my cheeks get warm and I hope it doesn’t show. Pressing a hand against the back of my neck I glance up once more at the tall freckled stranger.

“I was wondering if you knew where the nearest gas station is. My car ran out a while back and I’m new to town.” He said gesturing to what I presume is an empty gas can in his hand.

“Yeah If you follow this road straight and then take a left on, fuck I always forget the name of it, it’s the second left. And then I think a right? I’m sorry man I’m shit at directions. I could walk there perfectly fine it’s just the whole trying to describe where to go that I get lost.” I try to salvage that complete word vomit with a slight chuckle and a smirk. God he probably thinks I’m an idiot.

“Why don’t you show me where it is then? I – I mean if you’re willing to that is.” Jeez how can he be so nice to me with that infectious smile of his after I completely butchered directions to a gas station that’s like three streets away?

“Sure, why not,” I say as I let a smile slide onto my face. I grab my backpack and sling it over one shoulder as I take the hand he’s offered me and let him help guide me to my feet.

“So you’re new to town, huh?” I’ve never been good at small talk but we have a bit of a walk ahead of us and I would rather endure bad small talk than total silence.

“Yeah, we just moved here from Jinae,” Jinae is a small town not too far from Trost, only a few hours or so when driving. “My dad got a new job offer here so we all moved in. He said that would be better for everyone than him making a multi hour commute every day or staying gone for days at a time.”

I remember when my dad would have to go away on business trips all the time. Man those were always my favorite, a few days or even a week without him was all I could ever hope for.

“I’ve driven though Jinae on the way to Dauper but that’s about it. Did you like it there?”

“Yeah I loved it, it’s a lot smaller than it is here, less city like I guess. Trost isn’t bad but it’s a lot to get used to,” suddenly his feet come to a halt and he turns to me, “My name is Marco by the way, I don’t think I told you that.”

“Oh uh, Jean. My names Jean.” I hope he can’t see the redness I feel growing on my cheeks, especially because I don’t know why I’m starting to blush. I mean the guy just told me his name what’s so special about that?

“Jean…” he kind of whispers it under his breath like he’s committing it to memory, “That’s French right?”

“Yeah, my parents are French and my mom insisted on French names.” Save my last name, my full name sounds incredibly French. It’s almost embarrassing how French it sounds. My mother is from France and my father is French on his mother’s side, but German on his fathers. Hence the not so French sounding last name.

“That’s cool though! So uh I’m gonna take a wild guess that this is the gas station?” and sure enough somehow I didn’t even realize that the ten minute walk had passed and we were now standing in the parking lot of the gas station.

“Oh uh yeah…” And again out comes that embarrassed chuckle as I raise my hand to the back of my neck.

I can see his mouth moving but I’m not hearing what he’s saying. I’m too lost in my own mind right now. I haven’t been back to this gas station in almost a year. Last time I was here it wasn’t a good experience. Images of the filthy bathroom and fluorescent lights flood my mind. That was the day I fucked my life over for real.

“Jean? Jean are you okay?” It’s not his words that draw me out of my thoughts, it’s his touch. With a hand on my shoulder and eyes staring into mine worriedly I quickly gather myself again.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. It’s just… It’s nothing.” It’s probably not the best thing to tell the new kid on the block that this gas station is the place I did hard drugs for the first time at.

“Okay well uh, thanks for walking me here.” And somehow all that worry that he had on his face a moment ago when I was off being a space cadet has vanished and is now replaced with that same infectious smile of his.

We part ways after he fills up the small red gas can he’s been carrying and a string of offers to walk him back toward his car. Marco insists he knows the way back and we part with your typical “thanks” and “no problem” and “Maybe I’ll see you around”. And I can’t help but hope that I do in fact see him around sometime.

* * *

 

I can’t bring my feet to carry me out of the parking lot, instead I’m standing in front of the doors to the rundown station. It really is kind of a sketchy place. The building is starting to fall apart and the pain is all faded. When you look at it, you can definitely tell you aren’t on the good side of Trost.

The cool metal of the door handle sends shivers through my body as I open the door. Ignoring the ding of the bell that goes off and the monotone “Welcome” that automatically slips out of the cashiers mouth at the sound, I wonder aimlessly though the aisles of the small corner store. I walk with my arm outstretched and gently graze the items sitting on the shelves.

I zig zag the few aisles there are until I find myself stopped in front of the door to the bathroom. My breath gets caught in my throat as I walk into the filthy washroom. It’s exactly as I remember it from a year ago.

It was last summer, I had just graduated high school. I was the valedictorian and everything. I was everything the successful mayor’s son should have been. But no one knew the half of it. I only did so well in school and in sports and still had the energy to go volunteer at whatever place my dad needed to get a picture of him “helping the community” at because of the drugs I was taking.

I didn’t start out with hard drugs or anything. Just your typical study drugs like Adderall and Ritalin to help me get through all of the AP and honors classes followed by practice. But after I graduated I didn’t need them anymore right? Well not exactly. I kept taking them because I just couldn’t function without them anymore.

Then I got my wisdom teeth taken out and got some pretty nice pain killers for that. And so the cycle continued and pretty much daily I was using some drug whether it be Adderall, Ritalin, Vicodin, or some other pill of the sort. No one ever knew, no one ever guessed that me, the mayor’s son, was addicted to pills.

I can’t tell you exactly why I did it. The study drugs didn’t give me the energy and focus I needed to get through the day they just made it so I couldn’t sleep and my mind wouldn’t shut up. The pain pills never stopped me from hurting, but I couldn’t stop taking them because the thought of maybe one day they were going to take the emotional pain away that I was still feeling was too tempting.

I would come to this gas station to get the pills. Once a week I was here. But then one day the guy didn’t have what I wanted and instead said he had something better. Fast forward to me sitting on the floor of a disgusting corner store bathroom with a needle sticking out of my arm and a drug dealer standing over me.

A knock on the door drags me out of my thoughts and I quickly open the door and push past the stranger waiting on the other side. I’m outside in an instant, I don’t waste any time slithering though aisles this time.

Now it’s time to figure out where I’m sleeping tonight. I’ve been pretty much couch surfing for a year and I know one place I’m always welcome. Reaching into my pocket I pull out my beaten up phone and sift through old messages trying to find him.

 

**To: Conrad Springer**

_Yo Connie, can I crash at your place tonight?_

Connie is my best friend. I’ve known him since I was young and we always somehow went to school together. He lives with his aunt in the “not so good” part of town but his aunt always managed to get him into the same school as me in the rich snobby part of town despite being out of district.

I tap my fingers without rhythm on the side of my leg as I stare at my phone waiting for a response. Though I’m looking right at the screen the buzz of my phone still gives me a startle.

 

**From: Conrad Springer**

_Yeah no prob need a ride? I’m off work in 10_

 

We exchange a few more messages and then I park myself on the curb outside of the corner store and wait for Connie to show up. I’ve spent most of the past year with Connie and his Aunt Hanji, yet no matter how many times they ask me and tell me to just move in and stay with them until I get back on me feet I cant. I can’t let them down too like I did my parents. Because I’m Jean fucking Kirstein and I’m a drug addict.


	2. Problems and Pumpkin Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its always a relief to have a shoulder to lean on and a gourmet meal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the formatting is a little off im typing this on my phone. also sorry for so many inconsistencies in my writing style im just getting back into writing so its taking me time to find my groove again. thank you all so much for reading and leaving kudos! it means a lot! feel free to leave any comments!

“Get in loser, we’re going gaming!” Connie calls from out his window as he rolls up to me sitting on the curb, “I got the new CoD game and I’ll be damned if I don’t play it with you first.” I climb into the passenger side of his Jeep and listen to him ramble on about how good the new Call of Duty game is supposed to be. If there’s one thing everyone knows about Connie, it’s that he loves his video games and references to chick flicks from the early 2000’s.

Connie is a bit of a character, but he’s a good kid. Everyone loves him, even the people that claim to hate him. He’s just a hard kid to hate. In school he was known as the video game loving theatre nerd who also happened to be one of the star players on the volleyball team. Connie was one of those kids that didn’t really have a specific group of people he would hang out with, he got along with everyone.  

“Hey Jean, you there?” and the spacing out while people are talking to me saga continues, “You seem kinda out of it today, are you doin alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine man, just shit on my mind today.” I’m not sure if that’s an accurate statement or not. It’s more like there’s so much going on in my head its silent. That trip to the gas station got to me more than I thought it would. 

“Well whats goin on?” he’s the only person that’s ever able to get me to open up and talk about this kind of stuff with. 

“I was hangin out down town and this kid came up to me askin for directions to a gas station, guess he’s knew to town, so I walked him to that beat up corner store. And, well I don’t really know, I just think going back there has me all out of whack now.” I swear my head vibrating against the window is gonna give me a concussion but I can’t be bothered to move it. 

“How uh, how long has it been since you last, you know, used?” Connie never really beats around the bush with my drug use, he knew I was struggling with it before anyone else did.

“Ah fuck, what day is today? Thursday right,” Connie gives me a slight nod of confirmation while keeping his eyes on the road, “Then, well uh, Wednesday,” I give Connie a shy chuckle to hopefully distract from the fact that I’m really bad at not doing drugs,  “But I didn’t go crazy with it, just enough to keep the craving down and to not go into full blown withdrawal.”

He nods his head slightly as we pull into his driveway and I know what he’s thinking. I told him I was getting better with it and I was really trying, but he probably doesn’t believe me too much when I tell him I was getting high just yesterday.  

“Connie, I promise I’m trying. It’s just not that easy sometimes.” God I hope he believes me. Getting clean is hard, as soon as withdrawal hits the only thing that can ease it is shooting up again or maybe taking some pills to push it off a little bit longer. I know the rest of today and the coming days are going to be hard, I can only make it a day or two before the craving starts to drive me crazy and I start to fully detox, which is total hell by the way. 

“You don’t look good today Jean,” Connie doesn’t have a serious tone to his voice that often, but when it comes to me he’s good at being the ‘dad friend’, “you’re pale as all hell and it’s obvious you’re about to detox. You gotta stop doin this whole ‘I’ll get really high today and then not do it for a week’ thing. Trying to get clean like that isn’t going to work it’s only going to make it harder. I know you don’t like it but it’s something you need to hear. Now let’s go fuck people up in CoD.” 

I’m lingering in the car for a minute after he gets out and heads inside just letting his words swim around in my head. He’s right, I’m not doing this the easy way and I’m making it harder on myself like this. Because this way the cravings are stronger and the detox is harder. 

Connie’s house has always in someways felt more like home than my house ever did. I at least always know I’m welcome and wanted here with him and Hanji. When we were young my parents didn’t exactly like me hanging out with Connie and going to his house because in their eyes how could he possibly be a good kid if he lives on the “bad side” of Trost with his aunt instead of his parents. Little did they know their “perfect” son from the suburbs would be the kid who didn’t turn out alright. 

“Ha take that you limp fridge!” Connie yells into the headset after getting a perfect headshot. He’s a creative one with his insults I guess you could say. I’m actually enjoying the game a lot more than I thought I would considering I’m currently feeling like crap. Because despite my current situation, sitting in Connie’s room with only the glow of the tv and a neon green lava lamp illuminating the room, again something very “Connie” in nature, and playing video games makes me feel about as normal as possible. Like I’m yet again that fourteen year old freshman that goes to his friends house after school to play whatever the newest game release is. 

In between Connie’s shouts of obscure insults I hear the faint sound of the garage door opening and the dog barking, which means Hanji is home from work. She works in the ER at a small hospital on this side of town. It’s nothing big or fancy compared to the hospitals on the good side of Trost. Connie also works at Trost South Side Hospital as an RNA while he’s in school to be a nursing practitioner. 

 

* * *

 

“Are you not going to eat anything Jean?” I’ve been staring down at my plate absent minded, pushing food around since I sat down. It’s not that I don’t  _want_ to eat it’s that I  _can’t._ My stomach is twisted into a knot and I’ve been stifling the urge to run to the bathroom to empty its contents. 

Her voice calls out to me again, this time with a hand finding a place on my shoulder. “Connie why don’t you take him upstairs, he’s not looking too good.” I’m too out of it to really focus on what’s going on but I know what’s coming next. Detox is setting in now. Pulling my arm over his shoulder Connie drags me to my feet and wobbly walks me towards the stairs. As per usual, the energetic blue pit bull is right on our heels thinking it’s a game we’re playing with her. 

“Not now Rhonda, sorry sweetie,” I hear Connie say to his beloved pet punctuating his words with a few pats on her head. “It’s gonna be a long night isn’t it Jean?” I can barely manage a groan of confirmation as Connie sits me down on the bathroom floor. 

Shivering and sweating I lean over the edge of the toilet and empty what little contents my stomach had. I’d barely eaten anything today so there wasn’t much but that didn’t stop the slew of dry heaving. This is always the worst part. I can deal with the shivering and the sweating, the hot and cold flashes, the migraines and body pain, but I hate the nausea. Constantly feeling like the room is spinning and wracking my body over the cold porcelain gets old pretty fast. Unfortunately this is what I have to look forward to for the rest of the night and the following day. 

In my daze I never noticed Connie had left the bathroom until he was back in front of me draping a blanket over my shoulders. “I brought you some water, your phone, and a blanket. If you need anything just holler for me alright kid?” Ruffling my hair he gets up to leave with a leash in his hand. I figure he’s about to take Rhonda on her nightly walk. 

“Th-thanks Con,” my words are hoarse and before I can finish and ask him if he can also bring me my phone charger I find myself draped over the toilet again heaving up nothing. 

 

* * *

 

 The window must be open, there’s cool breeze blowing across my bare back. Taking in a deep inhale I breathe in the scents of fall air coming in from the window and recently washed bed sheets. I wonder when they moved me to Connie’s bed? How long have I been out? What day is it? With a heavy sigh I reluctantly pull my eyes open and lift myself onto my elbows. Most of my withdrawal symptoms have subsided but now I’m left with an aching body from all the heaving and shivering. The walk to the bathroom has rarely felt so long but so desperately needed. The only thing currently on my mind is a shower and brushing my teeth. Grabbing a towel from the hall closet I finally make my way into the bathroom. 

This is one of the places in the house that really makes it evident that it’s an older house in the inner city. How so? Well there’s no bathroom door. After some flooding a few years back the whole frame of Hanji and Connie’s house shifted and the because of that the bathroom door got stuck shut. Hanji’s solution was to just tear down the door and get a shower curtain that was fogged out instead of clear. Most people would think that it’s an invasion of privacy but no one here really cares, it’s not like you can really see the person whose in the shower through the curtain. 

Whoever moved me to the bed and undressed me sure made it easy for me to undress for the shower seeing as they stripped me down to my boxers. I can’t complain too much because it was pleasant waking up to the cool breeze from the window on my bare skin. 

Im one of those guys that likes his shower water scalding hot. If it doesn’t turn my pale skin red it’s not hot enough. Hanji always yells at me for it saying it’s not good for me but let’s be honest, on the list of things I do that aren’t good for me I don’t think having the shower water too hot makes the top of the list. 

It’s not always easy to see how much your body has changed until you really stop and take a look at it. With water running down my lean frame I really take in the changes. I’m fit, but not like I used to be. I used to have the body of an athlete, strong and muscular. I was the volleyball teams ace after all, some people even thought I was bound for the olympics. But now as time wears on I’m growing thinner with the meals I replace with cigarettes and sports I replace with video games. The outline of my ribs beginning to peak through tells me just how much weight I’ve lost recently. Though smaller and leaner I still have decent muscle tone but there’s no way I could be considered and ace anymore with the way I’ve treated my body and the changes it’s been forced to make over my bad decisions this past year. 

With my shower out of the way I make my way down to the kitchen. The rumble coming from my stomach is too strong to ignore now. Finding nothing appetizing in the pantry I pull out my phone for the first time today to text Connie. 

I guess time really does fly when you’re dazed out of your mind seeing as it’s a half past noon on  _Sunday._  I’ve been out for a solid two days now, no wonder my stomach isn’t letting me hear the end of it. 

**To: Conrad Springer**

_Hey are you working?_

**From: Conrad Springer**

_Just got off not too long ago_

**To: Conrad Springer**

_Wanna get breakfast?_

 

* * *

 

“You guys have  _got_  to try this!” Sasha lays out plates of French toast, pancakes, and hash browns in front of us. “They look like normal boring breakfast foods right? Just wait til you try em!”

Naturally I reach for the French roast first as it’s my favorite breakfast food. I’m always weary of Sasha’s so called “reinvention” of foods because you never know what she did to them. Her food concoctions always taste good though so I guess I shouldn’t be too weary. She is one of the leading chefs at this diner for a reason. 

Drizzling some maple syrup over the toast that’s already been topped with what looks like cinnamon and sugar I take a bite. Instantly it hits me and I know just what she’s done to probably all of the food in front of us. 

“Sasha…” she looks at me with eyes gleaming as I slowly finish my bite, “did you put pumpkin spice in everything on this table?” 

“Duh! It’s fall Jean, it’s like the only time you can use pumpkin spice. But tell me do you like it?!” Sliding onto the booth she pushed her boyfriend over so she’s now seated right across from me. 

“I mean yeah the French toast is good and I bet the pancakes will be too but… but the hash browns? Did you really put pumpkin spice in those too?”

With and over exaggerated pout on her face Sasha pushes the plate of hash browns towards me, “Oh come on Jean just give it a try it can’t be that bad.” Connie and I both reach our forks into the pile of potatoes in front of us and hesitantly take a bite. 

Eagerly looking between mine and Connie’s faces Sasha’s trying to figure out what we think of her odd pumpkin spiced potatoes. Connie and I make eye contact wondering who’s going to speak first and after a seemingly telepathic battle of Rock Paper Scissors it appears I’m the one that has to break the silence first. “Sasha… I don’t know how to say this but,” the excited brunette physically moves herself the the edge of her seat, “it’s actually not that bad.”

“I knew it!” She exclaimed while jumping out of the booth. “When will you boys learn to trust my cooking it’s always good isn’t it?”

“Babe you know I always trust your cooking you make the best munchies ever.” Connie praises his girlfriend. 

“And I’ll start trusting your food when you stop treating every meal like it’s a midnight munchie snack.” I scoff with a chuckle and stuff more French toast in my mouth. The three of us continue to eat our shared brunch all while teasing each other and causing a ruckus. It’s times like these that make me grateful for the friends I have in my life. Grateful that even though we’ve all got our own problems in our lives when were together we can forget about it all and just be normal kids out for Sunday brunch. 


	3. A Friendly Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A therapeutic day with a dog and a friendly face have a way of leaving a person with the warm and fuzzies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day??? im getting my inspiration back i just wish i was better at putting it into words. this AU is so long and extensive and deep in my head i just dont know how to get that into words. Thank you to everyone whose reading and even leaving kudos! I want to hopefully get onto a schedule where ill post at least one chapter once a week but we'll see how that goes.
> 
> this chapter is a bit shorter than the other two i have more i wanted to add but i thought this was a good stopping point for this chapter! Next chapter we'll be exploring jeans emotions and thoughts on the subjects at hand

It’s Monday morning which means Connie’s in class until 3 pm and Hanji’s at work. That also means I have the day all to myself which for someone who's craving a high pretty badly may not be the best idea. I’d love to just go out and buy some drugs and waste the day away on the couch, but I promised Connie and Hanji I would be better. So, I'm going to try this time around to stay clean. Now comes the next dilemma, if I’m not going to waste the day away getting high, what am I gonna do?

Pulling on a Trost Titans hoodie from Connie’s closet and a pair of blue jeans I get ready to head out of the house for the day. Maybe I'll take Rhonda with me for some company. She’s a real sweet dog and I don’t get why pit bulls have such a bad rap. 

“Oh, come on where the hell are you?” I mumble to myself looking for my missing left shoe. Maybe I'll also pick up around the house a bit today after mine and Rhonda’s adventures downtown.

“Rhonda! Rhonda come here girl!” I barely have time to finish calling for her before she's already barreled into me almost knocking me off my feet. Her floppy hears practically flying in the air as she leaps up and down excitedly waiting for me to hook the leash onto her collar, which admittedly would be easier if she wasn’t bounding up and down like her life depended on it.

It’s a nice fall day, not hot but not too cold, perfect sweater weather if you ask me. Patting my pockets looking for my cigarettes I realize I made the stupid mistake of leaving them at the house. “Come on Rhonda let's make a pit stop at 711.” Usually dogs aren’t allowed in the store but Rhonda and I have gotten to know most of the clerks and they don’t mind too much when I bring her around. I mean who could be mad at her perfect pitty smile and kisses? I get a fresh pack of smokes for me and spoil Rhonda by getting her a donut. 

Lighting up my first cigarette of the day we make our way to the nearby park so Rhonda can have her donut and I can enjoy my smoke without getting winded walking. The park is empty and peaceful, no screaming children yet as they should all be in school. I let Rhonda off the leash and toss a ball for her that I thankfully remembered to grab from the house. That dogs a ball of energy and could chase things for days. I remember when Connie first got her in 9th grade, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier. He spent months begging Hanji to let him get a dog and she finally caved, adopting Rhonda from someone in the neighborhood whose dog recently had a litter. 

_“What are you_ _gonna_ _name her Con?”_

_“_ _I’m_ _thinking Rhonda.”_

_“Rhonda? Why that?”_

_“Because I love Ronda Rousey, duh. But I'm_ _gonna_ _spell her name with an ‘H’ in it because it’ll make her seem tougher.”_

_“Tougher than one of the coolest girls in UFC?”_

_“Alright fine I just like the spelling with an ‘H’ more.”_

It’s now half past two and Rhonda and I have spent most of the day just wandering around the south side of Trost. “Smell that girl? Smells like lunch to me.” I say gesturing towards the food truck parked further down the street. We both pick up our pace as the promise of food entices us.

“Hey how can I help ya today?” the man in the truck practically yells down to me.

“Can I get, uh, two brats peppers and onions on one, the other plain?”

“Sure, thing man, comin right up!” a few minutes later I hand the man a $5 and walk away with our lunch. 

Flopping down in the grass I set the brat with nothing on it down in front of the blue pit bull. 

“Wait,” wagging her tail and licking her lips she waits for her signal to dig in, “alright eat up pup. Connie’s probably gonna give me shit for all the junk I’m feeding you, but it's not as fun to eat alone ya know?” with that we finish our lunch in silence.

 

* * *

 

Its 3:20 pm when we eventually make it back to the house. Connie's Jeep is in the driveway so he must have gotten home recently from class. Opening the front door, I let Rhonda loose in the house and make my climb up the stairs to the bedroom Connie and I share.

“Hey Con don’t get mad but - “seeing him standing next to Connie catches me completely off guard, I mean what are the chances right, “I - I uh may or may not have fed Rhonda a bunch of junk today.”

I can tell by his wide eyes he’s just as startled as I am. “Nah it's alright she hasn’t been spoiled in a while. Anyway, I want you to meet -”

“Marco.” it's completely unintentional but I cut Connie off saying the boy's name first. A puzzled look finds its way on Connie’s face and a blush creeps up under the tall boy's freckles.

“Wait you two know each other? Since when? Marco moved here like a week ago.”

“Remember when you picked me up from the corner store? He’s the kid I walked there.” brushing past Connie I flop onto the bed and kick off my converse. Connie seems content with that answer and goes back to shuffling through his notes.

“Jean, right? That’s your name?” Marco asks shyly.

“Sure is.” I don’t bother looking away from my phone game of fishing when I answer back. Connie gains back his attention right away by shoving what I presume are notes from the beginning of the semester that Marco missed out on.

Connie and Marco talk notes for a while longer and I tune them out while scrolling through Tumblr on the bed. What are the odds Connie would befriend the freckled boy I met by chance on the side of the road? When we parted saying “maybe we’ll meet again” I never imagined we would actually meet let alone in Connie’s house. 

“Jean ya listening buddy?” Connie’s teasing tone pulls me out of my thoughts. 

“Huh? Yeah what’s up?” I drop my phone on my chest and turn my head to meet his gaze. 

“Hanji is pulling a double so she won’t be here for dinner but Sasha’s gonna come by and make us her guinea pigs for a new dish she’s trying out,” I give a grunt of approval and pick my phone up again, “Marco you’re more than welcome to stay and hang out, Sasha always makes enough food to feed a small village.”

“That’s because you and her eat like a small village when you smoke.” I taunt with a chuckle, Marco also gets a laugh out of that. He has a warm laugh, a contagious one for sure. It’s one of those laughs that you can tell comes from deep in his chest, he really means it when he laughs like that.  

Connie and I pass the time waiting for Sasha to come over with some not so friendly banter over some video games while Marco watches us and chuckles at all of Connie's attempts at insults.

“You obtuse lamp! You can’t just snipe me like that man!” Connie huffs.

“Obviously I can, because I just did you triangular couch.” I bite back while taking a stab at Connie's odd branding of insults. Marco erupts laughing and Connie and I follow suit. “Man, it’s been a while since I had a good laugh like this.” I breathe out, mostly to myself.

“It really has been. I’m glad we’re finally getting some out of you.” I can feel the sincerity of Connie’s words. He spends a lot more time than he should having to worry about me. What a shitty best friend I am, right?

After a few more rounds of our games and some more shitty insults Sasha finally makes an appearance. Like the gentleman he apparently is, Marco offers to help her carry in the groceries for tonight's meal. With those two parting to Sasha's car, Connie pulls me aside. “How you feeling man? You're looking a bit better today.”

“Not too bad, I mean I'm craving like hell but I'm managing,” fingering for the pack of cigarettes in my front pocket I pull one out and slide it between my teeth, “definitely needing one of these right about now though.” my shaky hands pull out my lighter as Connie and I make our way to the front porch to meet up with the other two. Hanji doesn’t mind me smoking in the house but I prefer to do it outside, its usually quieter that way.

I watch from my perch on the railing of the patio as Connie and Rhonda run out into the yard to tackle Sasha to the ground, making her bag of produce go flying. Those two really are a solid pair of dorks but damn it they’re my dorks.

“Goofballs, huh?” the sudden appearance of him next to me gives me a startle and I drop my cigarette out of my already shaky hands. “Oh, I'm so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

Dropping down from my position on the banister I reach down and grab the burned out cigarette placing it between my lips and relighting it. “Hey no sweat it happens,” turning back to face Connie and Sasha wrestling on the front lawn with the rowdy dog running in circles around them unsure of which one she should be protecting I let a grin slide across my face, “They are some goof balls for sure.”

* * *

 

The dinner Sasha made us was delicious, a nice pasta with lots of fresh vegetables and chicken in it. That girl sure does know how to cook. Even though the four of us could have totally devoured all the food, Marco points out that it would be nice to set some aside for Hanji for when she gets off her double shift.

“Well boys, as fun as this is, I really should be heading home I’m in charge of opening the diner tomorrow.” Drying off her hands from washing the last dish of the night Sasha gives all of us hugs before Connie walks her to her car. 

With just Marco and I in the door way he breaks the comfortable silence, “I should probably be heading home now too.” 

“It is getting late isn’t it?” I say while lighting up my second cigarette of the evening. 

“You know you really shouldn’t smoke so much.” It’s something I’ve heard a hundred times before but if only he knew what the alternative was, I’m sure he wouldn’t be making a big deal over a post dinner smoke. 

“Yeah yeah I know, bad habit.” There’s an uncomfortable silence in the air as Connie walks back to the front porch but it doesn’t last long as Marco says his good byes leaving Connie and I alone on this brisk fall evening. I can’t help but watch him all the way to his car and even until his tail lights fade out of view. 

“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” A smug voice says from behind me. 

I take a long drag off my cigarette before snuffing it out underfoot. 

“Shut up…”


	4. Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drug addiction is like having your mind turned into a battle field where one side is logic and the other side is desire. And it's up to you to decide which side wins.
> 
>  
> 
> This is an angsty chapter that mainly focuses on Jeans relationship with Eren and his ongoing struggle with drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone that has been reading! It means a lot to me and i hope you guys are enjoying it. if you have any questions or comments or even suggestions feel free to say anything your feedback is greatly appreciated!

It’s not the first time I’ve had an innocent crush on a guy. I mean hell I’ve been with more boys than I have girls. Eren was my first boyfriend at 14 despite us both practically hating each other, even now my relationship with Eren is complicated. For the last four years Eren and I have just used each other to fulfill whatever need it is we have. Whether its pent up anger and we just need to scream and yell at someone, a hard craving and we don’t want to get high alone, or a heart full of loneliness and hope that a hot night in the sheets will fill the void. We rely on each other for so much even though we’d never want to admit it.

Damn we’re fucked up.

I'm fucked up.

I turn up the hot water as hot as it will go, hoping it will burn all the cravings out of my body. Hoping it will get rid of the urge to text Eren and see if he has any drugs for me or even just to see if maybe he’s as lonely as I am tonight.

“God damn it Jean... pull yourself together. You cant just keep running back to Eren every time you feel lonely and want to get high.” the words come out of my mouth but they do nothing to convince me otherwise. Wrapping a towel around my waist I grab my phone off the counter. I don’t even know what I want to say but I need to say something to him.

**To:** **Jaeger**

_You doing anything tonight?_

And now I wait. Because there's no bathroom door as soon as I stepped out of the shower I was struck with a cold breeze so piling on my hoodie and sweatpants I make my way back to the bedroom. Its 12:30 AM so Connie is probably asleep already. Plopping onto the futon couch along the wall of the bedroom all I can do is stare at my phone and wait for a response. Man I don’t want to be alone tonight.

_Bzz_ _._ _Bzz_ _._

**From:** **Jaeger**

_Nah_ _mikasa_ _and_ _armin_ _are out so_ _im_ _just chillin if you wanna come over I can pick you up in 10_

**To:** **Jaeger**

_Id like that_

I light another cigarette as I wait for Eren on the front porch. The fact that he immediately asked for me to come over tells me that he is in fact as lonely as I am tonight. That thought should comfort me but for some reason it’s not. I don’t know if it was seeing how happy Connie and Sasha are together, or having the boy that I’ve developed a stupid crush on hanging around the house, or maybe just realizing how isolating being an addict can be that’s made me feel so low tonight. All I know is I’d prefer to not be feeling like this.

Bright headlights pulling into the driveway pull me from my thoughts. The engine cuts and the driver door opens to reveal Eren in similar apparel to my own. Sitting on the banister like this I manage to become even taller than him making the shorter boy in front of me appear so small. Flashing me a look with those green eyes of his I take in a deep drag of smoke.

“What is it, Eren?” I bite.

“Nothin’ just, you look better than the last time I saw you.” the shorter boy says to me.

“Yeah well last time you saw me your fist was making its acquaintance to my face.”

“Yeah yeah,” turning back to his car waving for me to follow he continues, “come on its cold out here lets go.”

Its only about a ten minute drive from Connie’s house to Eren’s apartment. The heat in his car is broken so we pretty much freeze our asses off the whole drive. As soon as we pull into his parking spot we’re booking it into the apartment. I practically melt into the warmth of the couch as soon as I sit down. Eren follows not long after falling down right next to me.

“So what’s goin on? You haven’t really been one to text me out of nowhere lately.” He prods.

“I dunno. Just not feeling too hot tonight. Lonely and shit you know.”

“I get that,” reaching for a pipe already packed full of weed he holds it out to me, “You want greens?”

“Nah you take them.” He seems satisfied enough with that as an answer as he holds a flame to the buds and breaths in the thick smoke. A deep exhale and he’s passing me the pipe. This smoke in my lungs is different than the cigarette smoke. This is warm and welcoming not harsh and heavy. Wordlessly passing the pipe between the two of us it doesn’t take long for the high to set in.

Feeling weightless on the couch I relax into the feeling. Eren moves closer to me on the couch, resting is head on my shoulder. Draping my arm over his shoulder and placing my hand on his chest I pull him in closer, melting into the warmth his body provides. Letting out a content hum he readjusts to get comfortable on my bony collar bones and jutting ribs.

“You’re getting thin. You weren’t this bony the last time I laid on you.” he says with a gravelly voice.

“Yeah I know, I noticed that the other day.” The words come out in a sigh.

* * *

 

Waking up to the smaller boy muttering something about the heat shutting off, it doesn’t take long for me to feel a hand travel over my side and pull me close. My bare skin pressed against Eren’s shirtless chest instantly fills me with the warmth I didn’t know I was lacking. Legs intertwined under the sheets, memories of last night flood my mind.

Memories of the shared drugs and cuddling on the couch. Memories of Eren’s hand traveling up my thigh and his lips pressed to my neck. Memories of me leading him to the bedroom and pulling off his clothes. The warm touch of skin on skin contact that I’ve been starved of for far too long. The sound of my name being called out in pleasure rings in my ears, even if the calls came from the boy I claim to hate the most.

Last night was a good night. Last night was a night that the loneliness didn’t hurt so bad.

* * *

 

_Bzzz_ _._ _Bzzz_ _._ _Bzzz_ _._ _Bzzz_ _._

Eyes still closed I search the side of the bed for my buzzing phone. Finally my fingertips come in contact with the cool surface, just as the phone call ends. Pealing my eyes open to look at my missed call I realize its almost noon, and I’m the only one in the bed.

**(4) Missed calls from Conrad Springer**

Lazily tapping in my four digit password I call Connie back.

“Dude where the hell are you?” he doesn’t even give me a second to properly wake up before sending me a slew of questions.

“i’m at Eren’s, I’m fine don’t worry.” I can hear a sigh of relief exit his lungs.

“Last night when you left the room I figured you went outside for a smoke but when I woke up this morning and you were nowhere to be found and not answering my calls I – you had me worried Jean.”

“I’m sorry Con, I should have said something. I was just having a rough night, needed to get out.”

A deep inhale and he continues, “I know, I just worry about you, you know that. Well on another note I'm taking Marco to the diner after class today for some lunch, come with us.” I mumble in confirmation that I'll be there and Connie hangs up the phone.

Leaving the morning after even when we were in his own apartment, definitely something Eren would do. Sliding my sweatpants on and stumbling my way to the bathroom I hope a splash of cold water will wake me up. Staring into the mirror I take in what I see. My lean torso and sides are littered with red lines left from Eren’s nails. My left collar bone has the faint pink and purple mark from his lips and teeth. Residing under my amber eyes dark circles have taken over. In the middle of my chest, the cold silver cross hangs loosely against my skin on its aging chain. I’m not even sure why I still wear this cross, hell I’m not even sure if I still believe in it at all. 

Say there is a God, why would that God let someone ruin their life like this? Why would a God be okay with a father abandoning his struggling son in the name of his political popularity? How could a God even let said father get away with passing it off as he’s doing it for his sons so called well being? Nothing about abandoning your son for your own selfish reasons could be for his own good. 

Everyone in Trost knows me as the dysfunctional Kirstein kid, they all know I’m a bisexual drug addict that no longer lives at home. Yet somehow my father has found a way to make it look like he’s never done anything wrong and that he’s “trying his best” to bring me back home and get clean. If that were the case he wouldn’t have changed the locks. He wouldn’t be keeping my car from me and forbidding me to see my mom and brother. He’s given me two choices, go to rehab or get clean on my own. Either way I’m not allowed back home until I’m sober.

Ice cold water hitting my face instantly wakes me up. Fumbling through the mess of clothes on the ground I find my warn out grey hoodie with the Trost Titans logo on it. It’s a hoodie from Trost University, the same college Connie and Marco attend. I received it senior year of high school when they scouted me for volleyball. 

There's something stuffed into the pocket, and I know I didn’t put it in there. Carefully tracing my fingers over the plastic bag, taking in a deep breath I pull it out of my pocket to reveal its contents.  _Damn it Eren, why now of all times?_

With a sigh, I put the bag of heroine and needles back into my pocket.

* * *

 

**From: Conrad Springer**

_Yo we’re at the diner whenever you get here_

I guess that’s my cue to head over. The diner is a short walk from Eren’s place so I don’t even bother going back to the house to change before going over. Besides, the painful rumble in my stomach isn’t going to let me waste time anyway.

Dragging my feet on the sidewalk I flip my hood up onto my head. Fall in Trost also means biting wind that will go through even your warmest sweaters. Its not as bad as the falls or winter in Dauper, being that it’s a mountain town, but definitely colder than in Jinae that’s to the south of Trost.

_Ding!_ The bell on top of the door to the diner rings as I step through the threshold eyeing for Connie and Marco. It doesn’t talk long to spot them seated at a booth in the back corner. Connie is already stuffing his face with french fries when I walk over.

“Scoot.” I chuckle as I slide onto the seat next to him.

“I ordered you the same thing,” sliding a plate in front of me topped with a delicious looking hamburger and fries, “I figured you probably worked up an appetite after last night.” winking and nudging me in my ribs I shoot Connie a mean side eye.

Marco looks confused as to what Connie is talking about. His eyes trail down my face and land to where the rosy mark has laid claim on my collar bone. A flash of red appears under his freckle as he looks back down to his plate. Most of our lunch chatter consists of Connie and Marco talking over that day’s lesson and Connie occasionally pulling me out on my thoughts to make some snarky remark.

I try to laugh and contribute to the conversations when i can but all I can think about is what is in  my pocket. Because I didn’t stop by the house before meeting for lunch I still have my kryptonite in my pocket and it keeps calling my name, making it hard to follow the chatter of my table mates.

“Jean,” an elbow nudges into my ribs once again, “Jean you there buddy?” Connie has a bit of a concerned look on his face as I turn to meet his gaze. I piece together that they’ve also finished their meals and are ready to head out.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry.” I stand up and let Connie out of the booth. He gives me a lingering pat on the back as he leads the way to the door of the diner. He's definitely going to ask me what that was all about later. 

Next to me I can feel a certain freckled boys eyes following me as we walk to Connie’s CJ Jeep. I let Marco take shotgun as I crawl into the back seat. He's not taller than me by much but he’ll still be more comfortable up front. Plus I need the time in the back seat to myself so I can just think.

Why did Eren have to give me this bag  _now?_ Of course the moment I kick myself in the ass to get serious about getting clean I'm given a pristine supply that no one could pass up.  _Fucking Jaeger._ But now I'm left with the decision of what to do. Do I tell Connie and give him the bag so he can keep it away from me and keep me on track, or do I give into my own desires and stick the needle in my arm?

I’d like to think I would chose the first option but something’s telling me that I already made the decision to give in when I didn’t just leave the bag at Eren’s place.

* * *

 

After dropping Marco off at the university for his next class I climb into the front seat next to Connie.

“You’re gonna be late to class Connie - “

“Jean. What’s going on?” he cuts me off, “You’ve been out of it all day, and not just in the ‘I got a good lay last night’ kind of way either. So spill.” leave it to Connie to bring this up now. I want nothing more than to climb out of the car and walk my ass to the house or to curl up into a little ball. I just don’t want to talk about this right now, not before I've made up my mind about what I'm going to do about the heroine currently in my pocket.

“If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine, just tell me if you’re alright man. Because if you need me for anything or just don’t want to be alone right now then I'll make that happen. Making sure you’re alright is more important to me than calculus. Also I don’t want to go to calculus.” He gives me a sympathetic look as I turn his words over in my head. Man I really don’t deserve a friend like Connie.

“I’ll be fine Con, besides you’ve already skipped calculus too many times this semester.” I give him a forced but sincere smile hoping he’ll accept my response.

With a sigh he grabs his backpack from the back seat and tosses me the keys to the Jeep. “Take the Jeep home, I'll catch a ride with Marco.” That kid can read me like a book can’t he?

We wave our goodbyes as I pull out of the parking lot towards the house.

* * *

 

The filled syringe feels heavy in my hand. Staring at it is like staring at a loaded gun. I can still turn back, I can still tell Connie or Hanji and put this all behind me.  _But_ _I’m_ _not ready yet,_  I tell myself. Drug addiction is like having your mind turned into a battle field where one side is logic and the other side is desire. And for me, desire always wins.

With a sharp insertion of the needle and a groan of discomfort I slowly push down on the syringe filling my veins with my kryptonite. A wave of relaxation washes over my body as I sink into the couch letting the high take over. Before letting my eyes slip shut and floating away into the high I let the words slip out of my mouth. Rolling off my tongue they are barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry...


	5. Rosy Cheeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a heavy focus on drug use but theres also a fluffy treat at the end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone that has visited and read my work! It means a lot to me! i hope you guys enjoy this. This has a scene in this chapter that i've been looking forward to writing, i was going to have it come later but im impatient so i added it in now.

I don’t know what time it is when I finally come back around and down from my high. I’m guessing it’s been a few hours judging by the darkening sky coming in from the window. Groggily, I pull my phone from my pocket in order to catch back up with the world. It’s half past 5 pm. So I’ve been off in my euphoric wonderland for about four hours. I have one text from Connie, I don’t know why I feel so disappointed when there’s not more. I mean it’s not like I really talk to anyone but Connie and even then we don’t text much. 

**From: Conrad Springer**

_The ER is crazy busy right now I’m going in for a few hours to help out. Hanji_ _’_ _s pulling another double but I’ll be home in time for dinner_

That explains why the house is so empty. The living room that I’m in is dark and quiet, I didn’t bother to turn on any lights or the tv when I got home. Even Rhonda is silently sleeping in her bed by the fireplace. Since it’s almost six that means Connie should be home soon. 

I let out another groan, this one out of annoyance or discontent, I’m not sure how to describe it. Sometimes I just feel like the only way to express how I feel when I don’t have words for it is to just make some sort of sigh of relief. Dragging myself to my feet I force myself to clean up a bit, turn on some lights, and try to hide the evidence of the sin I’ve committed the best I can. I know I can’t hide the physical evidence on my body for long but I can hide the rest of my supply. Heading upstairs to the bedroom I pull out my backpack to hide the goody bag I received from Eren. Before tucking it into a hidden inside pocket I load up a syringe with a smaller dose. Not enough to knock me on my ass for another four hours, but just enough to give me the elevated euphoria I’ve been searching for. When I get high my goal isn’t always to be laid out for hours, most times it’s to take just enough to get by. 

Securing the zipper shut I tuck my backpack back under the futon just in time to hear the front door open. Shuffling down the creaky steps I meet up with Connie in the living room, Marco appearing around the corner a moment later. 

“How’d stuff in the ER go?” My voice comes out raspier than I want it to but it’s also laced with with a surprising upbeat tone. 

“Fucking mad house man, there was a multi car pileup on the highway so people were coming in left and right.” Throwing himself down on the couch and tossing his feet up on the coffee table, Connie shoots me a questioning look. And I know exactly what that look means, he’s noticed my improved mood and knows there has to be something behind it. 

“It really was crazy, you couldn’t walk anywhere without running into a nurse or a doctor or even a gurney!” I can tell by the expression on his face that Marco’s never been in the ER during a mass casualty before. 

“Whadya boys say we order some pizza and play some games? I picked up both Mario Kart and the new Smash Bros.” Connie says while already dialing the number for the pizza joint. 

“Only if you want to get your ass kicked on rainbow road, short stack.” I say ending with a laugh and a playful punch to his shoulder as I fall into the cushion next to him. 

When the pizza arrives we all settle down in to our respective spots on the couches in the living room. Connie and I claim the big couch while Marco gets the smaller love seat adjacent to us all to himself. Pizzas laid out on the table in front of us we each grab a controller as Connie sets up the game. 

“I can’t believe you get Hawaiian style pizza.” Marco snorts at my jab at Connie’s taste in pizza. 

“Aye you’ve never even tried it horse face, don’t knock it til you do kid,” He retorts. Without thinking about it I pull off my hoodie to reveal the plain white tee shirt underneath. In doing so, I also reveal the fresh track marks and bruises on the insides of my elbows. Connie takes note of them while finding his spot back on the couch but he doesn’t say anything, “alright let’s get to playin!” He says while starting up the first race of Mario Kart. 

Connie is racing as Bowser, I’m Yoshi, and Marco chose Toad. I can’t help but smirk at his character choice but it seems to fit him well. After freckles and I lose miserably to Connie who’s stuffing a “victory slice” of pizza in his mouth, Marco and I both move in to take a slice from our shared veggie pizza. Our hands both reaching for the pizza, he suddenly hesitates. Grabbing my slice and looking up I realize the delay in his hunger. He’s spotted my arms and judging by the look of bewilderment on his face, he’s never seen anything like it in person. The freckled boy makes eye contact with me for a brief moment before looking away and resuming his reach for the pizza. 

“S-sorry.” He says under his breath just loud enough for me to hear while a flash of red creeps into his cheeks and ears. Connie seems to sense the tension in the air as he quickly asks us which track we should race next. 

Through out our next few races and with every slice of pizza I grab I catch Marco stealing glances at me. I’m pretty used to people staring when they see the track marks on my arms but their eyes are usually full of disgust. But not Marco, he looks… almost curious. Like he has a hundred questions he wants to ask me and I like to think that somehow none of them would be degrading. 

Getting up to go to the bathroom, I linger in the hallway around the corner for a moment after hearing Marco call for Connie’s attention. 

“So uh, Jean. His arms, is that from…?” I can tell from his voice and the way he trails off his question that he’s not exactly comfortable with the topic. 

“Yeah, he’s struggled with drug use for a while now. Addiction is tough but he’s managing.” That’s something I’ve always admired about Connie. He never says I’m a drug addict, he simply says I’m a person with an addiction. It’s not super noticeable but avoiding the stigma behind the phrase drug addict makes all the difference to someone like me. When someone calls a person a drug addict they’re no longer being viewed as person, but when they’re labeled as a person with an addiction they’re seen as someone with an illness that can be helped. And that’s what I admire about Connie, he’s always seen me as someone struggling with a disease unlike a lot of other people. 

Marco seems content with Connie’s explanation as he changes the subject back to the game at hand. I finish up in the bathroom and come back into the living room, reaching my hand into my hoodie that’s slumped against the arm of the couch I pull out my pack of cigarettes and head to the front porch. I really should have just put my hoodie on as the fall breeze is chilling me to the bone. I don’t mind too much though because it’s quiet and peaceful outside. The faint sounds of city life flood my ears. Behind me the front door creaks open and Connie appears, briskly walking to his jeep while pulling on a jacket.

“Got called into work, I’m not sure when I'll be off,” he says without stopping or turning to look at me. Stopping to make eye contact as he’s getting into his Jeep he continues, “Marco is staying the night.” With that he pulls out of the driveway towards TSS Hospital. I take another shivering drag of my cigarette, this time really wishing I put my sweater on. 

As if he heard my silent wish, closing the front door behind him, Marco sits himself down on the step next to me handing me my sweater.

“I thought you might be cold out here.” His voice comes out shy and soft.

“Thanks, its pretty damn cold isn’t it?” Turning to meet his face I catch him quickly turning his gaze away from my arms. “You know it’s okay, you can look at them.”

“You don’t mind? I - I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by staring or anything.” In the orange light from the porch lamp his dark brown eyes glow with flecks of gold.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to people staring.” Holding out my right arm to the side I fully expose the fresh track marks to him. Keeping my eyes forward gazing up at the night sky I take in another puff of smoke. Feeling his warm fingers gently graze over my bruising arm gives me a startle.

No one has ever looked at my bruised track mark ridden arms with such curiosity before. His fingers lightly dance over the emerging purple and red splotches careful to avoid where the needle has left its mark. I allow Marco to continue observing my arms in silence as I finish my cigarette. He doesn’t make any remarks this time about smoking being bad for my health. He's probably now realized that the nicotine is the lesser of two evils I face in my life.

 

* * *

 

 “We moved here because my dad got a pretty good job offer. It kind of sucked having to leave everything behind since I grew up in Jinae but I'm liking it here in Trost.” There’s a bittersweet tone to his voice when he talks about life in Jinae. He tells me about growing up there and what his life was like before Trost. His life seems like every other suburban kids’, big house with loving parents, an annoying younger sister, and a dog. He tells me about how his house was a short drive from the beach so he and his sister, Mari, would go relax on the shores all the time. Seems to me like the hardest thing in this kids life has been moving houses. Other than that it appears he’s got the perfect life. I can only dream of a life like that.

It’s a little after 11 when we decide to call it a night and go to bed. On the futon, Marco curls into himself so small I can barely see him under the blanket. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep and begin to breathe out gentle snores. I on the other hand, lay awake for a while longer replaying my day in my head until I finally drift off to sleep.

“Ow fuck-” the sound of Connie tripping over a pair of shoes startles me awake. Stirring, I turn to face the boy as he strips off his jacket and scrubs in favor of a tee shirt and basketball shorts. Marco seems to still be sleeping through the ruckus. Climbing over me, Connie lays himself down on the right side of the bed, closest to the wall. “Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you. Now give me some blanket.” He whispers while pulling some of the comforter over his own shivering body. Closing my eyes and allowing myself to succumb to the warmth of the bed and my friend beside me, I drift off back to sleep.

 

* * *

It’s been about a week now since my relapse. That week was spent mostly on Connie’s couch playing video games with him, Sasha, and of course Marco. Marco has seamlessly integrated himself into our friend group and I have no complaints. His calm demeanor is welcoming next to the chaos that Connie and Sasha always bring to the table.

“Ayyyee,” walking in the front door, the trio make their way into the living room as Connie continues, “we got some good bud. We’re smoking down tonight fellas!” Connie and Sasha fall into the love seat while Marco takes up residence on the couch next to me.

“What’s the occasion?” I chime in.

“Thanksgiving break, duh. How else are we supposed to celebrate? Now lets take this upstairs and get the ball rolling.” Connie grabs the bag of weed and blunt wraps off the coffee table leading the way upstairs to our bedroom with Sasha in tow. Standing up I stretch letting a yawn escape my lips. Marco seems out of it tonight for some reason. He's still staring blankly from the couch and I'm not even sure if he noticed the other two have parted upstairs.

“You comin’?” I smile while holding out a hand to help lift him off the couch.

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Taking my hand he pulls himself off of the cushion.

“Are you alright Marco? You seem out of it tonight.” I can feel my eyebrows furrow as I wait for a response.

“Yeah I’m okay, just haven’t been sleeping well is all.” The dark circles under his eyes bear the truth of his statement.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.” I give him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Entering the room Connie and Sasha are parked on the futon already rolling multiple joints. Marco takes up the bean bag chair on the ground as I sit on the edge of the bed. Marco still seems lost in space with his sleepy eyes staring at the bedroom door. Connie lights up the first joint passing it to me after taking a few puffs. 

“Log into Hulu, put some Cosmos or something.” Connie orders tossing me the PlayStation controller. I hold out the joint in an offer to Marco.

Shyly he parts his lips, “Oh, uh, no thanks.” His words are punctuated with a blush.

“Not a fan?” I question.

“I don’t know, I’ve never smoked before.” Connie's eyes go wide at Marcos confession and I pass the joint to Sasha.

“You’re telling me in all 19 years of your life, you’ve never smoked weed before? Like not even a single puff?” Connie asks the embarrassed brunette.

“Con, lay off. Not everyone is a delinquent like we are.” I chuckle feeling the high starting to settle into my body after my fourth round with the joint. Marco sends me a thankful glance as I continue to banter with Connie and Sasha.

It’s not long before we’re onto our second joint and Connie and Sasha are losing their minds watching Cosmos and talking about aliens. 

Moving my hand out to pass the joint to Sasha I'm cut short, “Jean?,” his voice comes out soft and sweet, “can I try it?”

“Are you sure?” I want to make sure he really wants to be doing this before handing him the smoldering buds.

“I am.” Looking up at me with his sleepy eyes and a smile on his face I pass it to him. Hesitantly, he inhales with caution and exhales with a cough.

“Aye Freckles decides to join us!” Connie exclaims while shoving chips into his mouth.

“Don’t eat all of my chips you jerk!” Sasha yells while simultaneously taking the joint from Marco and snatching the bag of chips from Connie’s grasp. We continue like this for a while, Connie and Sasha fighting over food and talking about aliens, while I keep a watchful eye on Marco as he adjusts to the feeling of smoke in his lungs. 

It's after our fourth shared joint that it appears everyone is ready to call it quits. Sasha is already passed out on Connie's chest on the futon and he’ll follow any second now. Getting up from the bed I grab one of the fleece blankets that have been push to the foot of the bed and drape it over the duo. Turning on my heels I bend down to check on Marco who is still awake in the bean bag chair. His calm and relaxed state has now vanished and he’s sitting with his hands grabbing at his hair, staring down into his lap.

“Marco...” The words come out as softly as I can make them, “Marco are you alright?” The older boy looks up at me with tears streaking his cheeks. As if on instinct I lean in closer and place a comforting hand on his knee and another on his shoulder.

“I - I don’t like this, Jean.” His voice cracks as my name comes off his lips.

“Hey now, it’s gonna be alright,” aiding Marco to his feet I guide him towards the bed, “you can sleep in the bed, I'll find somewhere else.” Pulling off his shoes I drape a blanket on top of his shaking body.

“Don’t go,” shaky words leave his lips as he stares up at me with pleading eyes. I can tell he wants to say more but nothing else comes out. Sliding myself into the bed next to him I pull the blanket over my legs. Extending my arm out welcomly I can feel a blush creep out onto my face. 

“Come here,” the words flow out soft and gentle and Marco takes the invitation. With him resting his head on my chest I wrap my arms around his shoulders, “It’s going to be okay.”

I don’t know how long we lay like this, with my freckled crush on my chest with one hand of mine running through his hair and the other drawing gentle circles on his back, but all I know is the entire time my cheeks and ears are burning with an intense shade of red. Whispering words of comfort I reassure him that the high wont last forever and that everything will be okay.


	6. Red Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a phone call can be either a blessing or a curse depending on how you look at it. For Jean, this one appears to be a curse
> 
> This chapter is pretty angsty but also a but fluffy to balance it out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza! This chapter is 6,531 words long, making it roughly 3x longer than some of the previous chapters! I debated splitting this one into two but nowhere seemed like the right place to stop so you guys get an extra long chapter compared to the others! I'd like to get into the habit of writing these longer chapters. I like this one a lot it has a few scenes that I've been waiting to write though they didn't come out exactly how I want them to (Its hard translating onto paper for me sometimes) I'm still proud of the outcome.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to read, i hope you are all enjoying it and as always your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

Waking up to my phone ringing I gently move my arm off of Marco’s waist to grab hold of it. Answering without even opening my eyes to see who the caller is, the voice on the other end of the line sends a shiver down my spine and forces my eyes to snap wide open.

“Hey Jeanbo.” His voice is the last thing I expect to hear, save maybe the endearing childhood nickname.

“Dad?” My voice cracks as I let the word slip out.

 

* * *

 

Having hung up after talking to my dad on the phone I take a look around the room. I’m the only one awake so far. Carefully untangling myself from being wrapped around Marco I stand, pulling the blanket up to give Marco with the warmth my body is no longer providing for him. He shifts, pulling the blanket closer to him with a satisfied mumble. Shuffling my way into the bathroom I splash icy water onto my face while I let the reality of the conversation with my dad sink in.

Now I may not be an amazing chef like Sasha, but I can make some mean pancakes with pre-made batter from the store. I figure since I'm up before everyone else, the least I can do is make some food for us. Pulling out a large frying pan I turn on the stove and get ready to pour the batter. It doesn’t take long for Connie and Sasha to stumble downstairs at the smell of food being made.

“G’morning sleepy heads,” I chuckle, “help yourself to some pancakes. Also want any eggs?”

“Scrambled.” They say in unison while Connie pours himself a cup of coffee. Anyone who doesn’t know them might think they’re being demanding with their response, but really those two just don’t know how to be functional humans on an empty stomach. Grabbing a smaller pan and eggs from the fridge I begin to make their eggs for them when Marco appears in the doorway with probably the cutest bed head I've ever seen.

“What’s got you in such a good mood this morning?” Sasha asks.

“My dad,” I start while handing Marco a plate to fill with pancakes, “he called me this morning.” Connie and Sasha’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, what did he say? Because usually when your dad calls you it ends with some yelling in French that Sash and I don’t understand and then you going to Jaeger’s.” Connie chimes in. He's right, usually my talks with dad don’t go so well and it ends in a yelling match.

“He asked me to come to Thanksgiving lunch this year,” somehow the look on the duos face grows even more surprised all while the one on Marco’s grows more confused, “trust me I'm as surprised as you are. Especially after how things ended last time I talked to him.”

“Yeah last time you guys got into it wasn’t pretty. He fuckin’ changed the locks on you. I wonder what finally got through to him?” Connie says while stuffing the fresh pile of eggs into his mouth. I hum in agreement.

“Anyway, Marco do you want any eggs?” I ask with a smile. The groggy brunette is busy downing his pancakes so he shakes his head no. Finally, someone in this house has the manners to not talk with their mouth stuffed full of food. 

Grabbing my own plate, I take the chair across from Marco. Connie and Sasha are already discussing with each other their schedules for the next week planning out when they’ll be able to see each other. Looking up, I catch Marco watching me. I raise a quizzical eyebrow and take another bite of my breakfast.

“Jean?” he asks and I hum a reply, “Why don’t you and your dad get along?” Oh boy this is a long story to explain over a stack of pancakes.

“We’ve never really gotten along, I guess. But especially over this last year we’ve had a lot of problems. He kicked me out over my drug use and pretty much told me not to come back. He threw a fit over me going to the house to see my brother and changed the locks. He also won’t give me the keys to my car so there’s that too. I don’t know, that’s the general rundown of it, it’s kind of a long story.” 

“Wow I can’t even imagine what that must be like.” He breaths out a sigh. 

“Oh, and don’t forget how he low key uses you to gain popularity as mayor.” Connie adds.

“Wait what?! Your dad is the mayor?” Marco’s eyes go wide in shock.

“Yeah lucky me, the fucked up son of Trost’s mayor.” I say taking a swig of orange juice.

 

* * *

Sasha leaves shortly after our breakfast for her shift at the diner and Marco follows soon after to go back to his house. Just like the first time I watched him leave the driveway, my eyes follow his tail lights until they are out of view leaving just Connie and I on the front porch.

“I saw you two in the bed last night, what was that all about?” Connie says while elbowing me in the ribs.

“Yeah, he was having a pretty shitty high. I’m talking like having a panic attack kind of high.”

“That’s got to be brutal, especially for your first time smoking.” He says.

“Yeah, well he doesn’t need to be liking it anyway. If he doesn’t want to do drugs then thats good.” I respond. Connie gives a nod of approval to my statement before heading back inside.

“Sasha is leaving for Dauper tomorrow. Shes gonna be gone pretty much the whole week.” Connie sighs.

“I thought you were going to try to go with her this year?”

“I was, but the hospital scheduled me Thanksgiving afternoon for a few hours. Same with Hanji but we’ll at least get off before dinner this year.” He says.

“Hey, getting Thanksgiving dinner with your aunt is better than nothing.” Ever since middle school the holiday dinners Connie and Hanji got to share grew fewer and far between because of work at the hospital. He may put on a front of being grumpy about not going to Dauper with Sasha but anyone can tell that he’s happy to get a holiday with his aunt.

_Bzz_ _._ _Bzz_ _._

**From: Unknown**

_Thank you for last night Jean : )_

**From: Unknown**

_I just realized you probably don’t have my number, this is Marco : )_

Even without having his number saved in my phone it’s pretty easy to tell who the text was from without him sending a second identifying message.

**To: Freckles**

_You don’t need to thank me, I was just trying to help._

I hit send and tuck my phone back into my pocket. 

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day is pretty average, I spend most of it texting Marco while Connie and I laze around the house just enjoying the peace until we go to bed. Laying down waiting for sleep, my mind can’t stop wandering back to my phone call with my dad.

“ _Hey_ _Jeanbo_ _.”_

_“Dad?”_

_“I was calling to ask you to come to Thanksgiving lunch this year.”_

_“R-really? You want me to come?”_

_“Of course Jean, we all miss you. Please consider it. The lunch will be at 12:30 pm.”_

_“O-okay.”_

_“I’ve got to go now, I have a meeting. I love you son.”_

_“I love you too_ _,_ _dad.”_

 

* * *

_Bzz_ _._ _Bzz_ _._

**From: Freckles**

_I’m bored and in the mood to explore, want to go downtown with me?_

I’ve been staring at my phone for the hour that I've been awake, searching for some excuse to text him. We spent all of yesterday texting back and forth, Connie kept teasing me about it because, well, he’s Connie that’s why.

**To: Freckles**

_I’d love to_

**From: Freckles**

_Awesome, pick you up in a half hour? : )_

I text back in agreement and make my way to the shower. I stand facing the shower head, letting the warm water run down my front. It didn’t mean anything. He was having a bad high and didn’t want to be alone. He would have asked anyone to stay with him, not just me, right? Just because I have a stupid crush on him doesn’t mean he feels the same way about me.

I finish my shower and walk back to the bedroom with just the dark purple towel wrapped around my hips. Connie has already left the house to say his goodbyes to Sasha so it’s just me in the room. Digging through my shirts I settle on an old well loved Ramones tee. Pulling it over my head and smoothing it over my chest my gaze falls on my arms. The bruising has faded and the needle marks are gone. I’ve managed to not use again since the day of my relapse, eight days ago. Two of those days were spent miserably detoxing while being lectured by Hanji. To make up for it though, I’ve been smoking more cigarettes and I can feel the effects on my lungs. I used to be an Olympic hopeful athlete, now I can’t even jog down the street without getting winded. I pull on a pair of blue jeans and my Titans hoodie, finishing the ensemble with maroon converse. I make the executive decision to leave my cigarettes on the bedside table before going outside to wait for Marco.

“Good morning!” He shouts from his car window with a smile. I slide into the passengers seat and buckle my seatbelt.

“G’morning.” I say, returning the smile.

“I haven’t really explored downtown Trost yet, what’s it like?” He asks while pulling out of the driveway.

“It’s pretty cool. There are a ton of little shops and places to eat and all of the buildings are pretty old. Theres also a big park in the center of it and random art instillations all over.” Downtown Trost is actually fairly nice. It’s the oldest part of the town but also probably the most lively. There are always colorful lights hung up in the trees no matter what time of year it is and the sidewalks are alive with the acts of street performers.

“Wow that sounds amazing. We didn’t have anything like that near where I lived in Jinae. It was pretty much just suburbs everywhere.” There’s a fondness in his eyes whenever he talks about Jinae, but there’s also something else behind them that I can’t quite put my finger on. Hurt? Disgust? Fear? Whatever it is, it pains me to see it. 

Watching him navigate us towards downtown Trost I take in everything. His dark hair that’s full of subtle waves, the freckles that litter every patch of skin that I can see, and even the deepening and darkening circles under his eyes. But he always has a smile.

“What are you studying at Trost U, you have a lot of classes with Connie so I'm assuming something in medicine?” I break the comfortable silence.

“Yeah! I'm going to be a surgeon.” He says proudly.

“A surgeon, huh?” 

“Yeah my parents always wanted me to be one.” He says.

“Your parents want you to? What do you want to do?” The look on his faces tells me that no one has really asked him what he wants. He’s probably just always done what his parents suggested. I can tell he’s having a bit of a mental battle with himself so I continue, “I wanted to go pro in volleyball.” 

“Volleyball? I didn’t know you played.” A smile grows across his face.

“Connie and I were on the same team at North Trost High. I was a wing spiker and he was the libero. Our team was undefeated our senior year and all four years of high school our team won nationals.” I say.

“Wow... You must be pretty good then!” He says cheerfully.

“I was at least, there’s no way I could play now the way I used to.” I get hit with a wave of nostalgia as I talk about my volleyball days. 

“Well have you tried?” Marco asks as he pulls into a parking spot.

“What do you mean?” He can’t seriously think I can still play like the ace I was, can he?

“Since you graduated, have you tried playing at all?”

“Not really. I mean a little, the summer after graduation I kept training because I still thought I was going to be playing for Trost U at the time. But that didn’t last very long and I haven’t even really looked at a volleyball since.” I can feel my eyes starting to burn with building tears. Volleyball has been my passion since I was in middle school, it hurts knowing that it’s all in my past now. Pushing back my tears I turn to Marco and continue, “Come on, let’s go explore.”

We spend the afternoon walking all around downtown and I swear my heart skips a beat every time Marco’s hand accidentally brushes against my own, or when he stands a little too close to me in order to let others pass us on the sidewalks. Despite being obviously exhausted still, he manages to have a surprising amount of pep in his step the whole day. What’s been keeping you up at night, Marco?

 

* * *

 

I’ve spent the last three days with Marco showing him all over Trost. I wish today would be the same but it’s now Thanksgiving Day and I have to face going back home. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, I mean It's my family, so why am I so nervous? Usually my family is the type to get all dressed up for holidays but I don’t have any dress clothes at Connie’s. I guess that will be my first disappointment of the day, showing up in jeans instead of slacks and a plain long sleeve instead of a button down.

“It’ll be alright Jean.” Connies hand claps down on my shoulder, “I know you’re nervous but they obviously want you there. They wouldn’t have asked you to come if they didn’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just feel like... hell I don’t even know how I feel about this actually.”

“Do you want me to drop you off before I head to work?” He offers.

“That would be nice.” I say softly with my gaze falling to the floor.

It’s an enjoyable drive to my house with Connie. He blasts some early 2000’s alternative because his taste in music never changed as he grew older but I can’t complain. He wouldn’t be Connie without his love for anything and everything that came out of the early 2000’s.

I take in a deep breath as we pull into my driveway. My brother, Gabriel, is already waiting for me at the front door. Standing in his khaki pants and blue button down he looks so grown up. Thanking Connie for dropping me off I slide out of the passengers seat and stuff my phone in my pocket. It feels like an eternity before I make It up the steps to stand before my brother.

“Hey Gabe.” I say pulling my little brother into a hug.

“I missed you Jean.” His voice is muffled by my shoulder. Letting him go we step inside. It’s just like it’s always been. The tile on the floor has been polished so much you can practically see yourself in it, theres no trace of even the faintest speck of dust to be found anywhere, everything has been left in the most pristine condition.

“Oh Jean boy you’re here!” My mom practically yells while pulling me into a hug, “I’m so glad you decided to come.” Pulling away from our hug she cups my face in her hands.

“You’re looking thin Jean, have you been eating enough?” She questions.

“Yes mom, I've been eating plenty.” Now if she were to ask me if I was eating anything other than junk food and Sashas munchie creations, that would warrant a different answer.

“Good. Now head on upstairs, I laid out some nice clothes for you dear.” She says giving me a stern look. Walking back towards the kitchen her sandy blonde hair bounces over her shoulders where the thick curls have been hair sprayed into place. 

The walk to my bedroom is familiar yet it feels strange. Everything is exactly the same, but somehow it feels like I've never made this journey through the house before. It appears my room hasn’t been touched much since I left. The bed has been made and I can tell my mom has been dusting and vacuuming in here as it looks just as tended to as every other region in the house. On my bed a pair of black slacks and a maroon button down have been laid out for me. A pair of dress shoes rest on the ground next to the bedside table. 

I quickly change into the outfit my mom laid out for me. I button up my shirt to the second button, leaving it open a little at the top to leave room to breathe. Tucking in the maroon fabric I fasten a belt around my hips to hold everything in place and slide my feet into the black dress shoes. As much as I dislike how uncomfortable dress clothes may be, I do like the way I look. The maroon shirt complements my amber eyes and the sleek dress pants accentuate my height and build.

Hesitantly I walk down the stairs to gather with my family in the kitchen. My parents are setting up food on the dining room table and Gabe has his nose buried in his phone over the kitchen counter. My father has yet to say anything to me though he’s met my eyes a number of times.

“Alright boys, join us at the table!” My mom gestures excitedly for Gabe and I to join. We oblige and take a seat at the square table. I sit across from my father positioning my closest to my mom and brother. It’s the spot at the table that feels the safest but it also makes it incredibly difficult to avoid eye contact with my dad.

“Francois would you like to lead us in prayer?” My mom asks. With that we join hands and bow our heads as my dad leads us in prayer.

“Amen.” We all say in unison before filling our respective plates with my moms home cooked meal.

The tension in the air is so thick I think I can could cut it with my knife if I wanted to. Part of me wants the silence to be broken so bad because of how uncomfortable it is but one wants to make the first move.

“Jean,” My dad’s voice cuts through the air, “how long have you been sober?” I want the silence back.

“E - eleven days.” My voice is weak and I avert my eyes to my plate, pushing food around more than I'm eating anything. My mom and Gabe direct their eyes away from my father and I as well.

“Only eleven?” The disappointment in his voice feels like a knife to the chest.

“Dad, I - I'm trying to -” I’m cut short by his over powering voice.

“I think it’s time you try rehab again.”

“Francois, please can we just-” My moms voice is soft and sweet as she tries to free me from my fathers invisible grasp.

“Nadine this is something we need to talk about.” He tells her sternly.

“I’m not going to rehab, I’m doing just fine on my own.” I try to sound strong and brave but my voice cracking doesn’t help the cause.

“Jean this isn’t up for discussion. You will be going back to rehab.”

“Like Hell I am.” Suddenly finding the strength in my voice I utter the words powerfully.

“You’re just like them...” My dad’s voice  is now soft as he mutters to himself, catching me off guard.

“What? What did you say?” 

“It’s none of your concern Jean.” His piercing eyes find mine. Neither of us willing to look away first, the simple act of eye contact becomes a battle for dominance over the other. A battle that I usually lose.

“Who am I ‘just like’ dad? What does that even mean?”

“Jean please, can we talk about this later end enjoy our meal?” my mom pleads, placing a hand on my arm that has been resting on the table. I can’t bring myself to look at her because I know the pain in her eyes will break my heart.

“No mom, I have to know.”

“You’re stubborn and relentless Jean!” my fathers voice raises, sending a shudder down my spine, “Just like your damn uncle and grandfather. They both refused to do what was best for them and now they are both six feet under! Do you really want to end up like that too?” his voice lowers from a yell at the question.

“What do you mean they refused to do what was best for themselves?” My eyes wide in curiosity I scan the table. My mom has her head down and is picking at her freshly manicured nails, Gabe is silently playing with his food trying to ignore the scene that’s unfolded in front of him, and my father looks as though he’s opened a door he never wanted to.

“They refused to go to rehab, Jean.”

The weight of the words that now fill the air push me further in  my seat. My grandfather died before I was born and my uncle passed when I was only two yet I never knew what happened to either of them. Taking in a deep breath I let the words sink in. 

“So you’re telling me,” I start off calm but I can feel my composure quickly fading away as I stand up slamming my hands onto the table, “that all this time you never once thought it was important to tell me that addiction runs in the fucking family!? You never thought that I needed to know that I had a genetic predisposition for all of this!?” Hot tears are now running down my cheeks as I stare my father down waiting for a response.

“Jean, honey please -” my mom starts.

“No mom. I need an answer from him.” I respond without removing my blurry stare from the man across from me.

Standing to match my height he yells back, “What difference does it make Jean? You knew all the consequences of drug use well before you started doping yourself up, would knowing this really have deterred you from it when you already chose to ignore all of the risks in the first place!?”

I can feel a steady stream of hot tears flooding out of my eyes now, tears falling onto my hands that rest firmly on the table having not moved since my initial standing. I can’t find any words to say as I’m choking back sobs. I’m not the only one, my moms shoulders are shaking with her silent whimpers as she keeps her head down to let the tears fall.

“I want you out of my house.” His words now come out calm and collected which is for some reason scarier than when he’s yelling at me.

“Dad come on, don’t do this again.” Gabe’s voice comes from my left pleadingly. 

“Gabriel this is not up for discussion,” I can feel my fathers gaze fall on me and I refuse to look up to meet it, “Jean, out. Now.” His footsteps trail towards the front door. Willing my body to move I wipe the wetness from my face and move to stand next to my mom. Bending down I gently move the sandy curls that shield her face and press a kiss to her cheek.

 “I’m sorry mama.” My words come out cracked and full of remorse. Straightening back up I meet Gabe’s eyes for a moment before doing the walk of shame as I have before to the front door. Holding back my sobs I step onto the porch without a word to my father. Behind me the door slams shut and the lock clicks into place.

I can’t hold myself together any longer and I fall to my knees. The sobs come out loud and full of pain. I’m not even trying to stifle them or soften them for others ears. I knew this was all too good to be true. I knew this couldn’t be just a normal Thanksgiving lunch. But God damn it I didn’t think it would be this painful. Clutching one hand to my chest as I rock on my knees I give into my sobs. Fumbling in my pocket for my phone I struggle to unlock it. I have to get out of here, I need to get away from this place.

It takes me longer than I want it to in order to find the name in my contacts list because I cant see past the tears in my eyes. With every ring of the dial tone I struggle to take in a breath and calm my crying. I have to at least try to compose myself, I hate feeling this helpless.

“Hey Jean! I’m helping my mom cook so – wait Jean? Are you okay?” I can barely make out his words over the sound of myself crying. 

“M - Marco I’m sorry... I didn’t know w-who else to c-call...” The sentence comes out fractured and riddled with whimpers.

“Jean what’s going on? Are you okay?” His voice is full of concern and it makes me break even more. I shouldn’t have called him, I’m being selfish tearing him away from his time with his family just because mine doesn’t want me. Between my sobs I can hear the faint sounds of conversations in the background of the call.

“Jean I’m coming to get you okay. I know its hard but I need you to take some deep breaths and send me your address alright.”

“I - I’m trying...” Fumbling with my phone I attempt to take a few deep breaths as I punch my address into a text message.

“Okay I’m on my way, I’ll be there in ten minutes alright. Keep trying to breathe and calm down, I’ll be right there Jean.” His words are frantic and laced with worry. 

I manage to calm my sobs to a whimper and move to sit on the porch steps. The flow of tears from my eyes hasn’t slowed at all. I can’t wrap my mind around the new information that’s been thrown at me. All this time and no one ever mentioned to me how addiction runs in my family. No one has thought I should know how this disease has killed in the two generations before me. 

The ten minutes I’m waiting alone crying on the steps feels like forever. I feel terrible for dragging Marco away I just didn’t know who else to call. Sasha is in Dauper, Connie and Hanji are at work, and didn’t want to go running back to Jaeger because that would have only lead to more bad decisions. On the street in front of my house Marcos grey SUV pulls up and without missing a beat he’s jogging up my front lawn to me.

“Jean,” kneeling down in front of me he rests his hands on my knees, “Jean what happened?” His voice is soft and sweet.

“I’m sorry Marco. I - I just didn’t know who to c-call. I’m s-sorry for dragging you away.” With every word its harder and harder to keep my sobs down. The lump in my throat has grown painful in my attempt to hold back my bawling.

“Shh, It’s okay Jean,” pulling me to his chest he wraps me in his arms holding me tight, “everything will be alright.”

I let myself fall apart in his arms. Any control I had over my composure melts away and I’m left a sobbing mess. I’m mumbling incoherent apologies into his chest while he gently rocks me and whispers words of reassurance.

My meltdown doesn’t last all that long. As soon as my inconsolable sobs subside to whimpers Marco is silently guiding me to my feet. With a gentle hand on the small of my back he leads the way to his car. Opening the passengers side door for me I climb in without a word. I suppose Marco has a plan of action as he puts the car into drive and moves us down the street navigating with ease.

“My mom wants you to join us for dinner tonight,” opening my mouth I try to find my voice to object but nothing comes out, “and before you try to say no, she’s not going to take that for an answer. But before we go there’s somewhere else I want to take you first.” He finishes.

I nod my head in understanding and lean against the window watching the road fly past me. First we travel through familiar neighborhood roads that soon lead way to areas I’ve never been to. The houses grow fewer and far between with large trees filling the gaps. Eventually we land at the top of a large mountainous hill surrounded by trees. Pulling up to an outlook Marco stops the car. The scenery is beautiful. All my life in Trost I never knew this place existed. The view of the city highlighted by the lowering sun leaves me in amazement.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Marcos voice breaks the silence. “I like to come up here when I need to get away for a while, when I just need to think about stuff you know? So tell me, what happened Jean?” He says turning in his seat to face me. 

So I spill. I tell him everything that happened all while the tears begin to build and overflow and the lump in my throat grows painful yet again. I explain my feelings of betrayal at being kept in the dark from this family secret and how the seemingly innocent invitation was just a ploy to send me to rehab. Marco doesn’t seem to mind my rambling and crying, he just lets me put all my feelings out on the table with no judgement. We sit there in his car watching over Trost until I have fully exasperated my ability to cry any longer. I hate feeling so helpless and  _weak_ , but at the same time it feels as though a years worth of anger and sadness have come falling down off my shoulders.

 

* * *

 

Standing in the doorway I take in the scenery. The tan walls are adorned with family photos that everyone looks happy to be in. One that catches my eye in particular is a photo of Marco and his sister in the water at a beach. Marco is splashing a handful of water at her while she’s shielding her face with a huge smile. It has to be a fairly recent picture as Marco looks practically the same in it. His sister can’t be much younger than he is, shes probably around Gabriels age being sixteen or seventeen.

“Marco come help me with the potatoes?” A voice calls from the kitchen.

“Come on, lets join everyone.” He says with a smile. In the kitchen his parents and his sister are finishing preparing all of the food. His dad is carving the turkey that’s been cooked to a perfect golden color while his mom is transferring green beans into a serving dish. His sister on the other hand has called Marco over to help mash the potatoes, claiming she’s too short to do it herself.

“Excuses, excuses Mari.” He teases while taking over for her. I feel so out of place in the kitchen, like I should be doing something to help but I don’t know how.

“So you must be Jean, my dear.” His mom says stepping towards me with a handful of silverware, “Why don’t you help me set the table?”

“O-of course.” Taking some of the silverware from her we work our way around the table setting up five spots. It’s odd seeing a family working together so efficiently. Everyone is assisting in some way and the room is full of smiles and laughter. Even the banter between Marco and Mari never strays from being jokes between siblings.

“Thank you for inviting me Mrs. Bodt.” I say shyly as we finish setting the table. 

Approaching me, the shorter woman places a hand on my cheek, “Dear there is no need thank me, any friend of Marco’s is always welcome here.” Marco and Mari both take after their mother. She has long dark hair that falls in soft curls down her back, slightly tanned skin, and of course freckles strewn across her skin. Breaking away from me his mom moves the last of the dishes onto the round table.

Taking our seats I position myself in between Marco and Mari. Joining hands his father leads us in my second prayer of the day, “Thank you Lord for all that you have blessed us with. Thank you for blessing our family with love and happiness despite difficult times. Thank you for the new opportunities that have been presented to us all and the ability to succeed in our endeavors. Thank you Lord for all that you do for us. Amen.” he finishes and is followed by our chorus of Amen.

Filling our plates and passing dishes around I can’t help but let a smile slide across my face. This is the closest thing to a real family dinner I’ve experienced in a year. There’s no yelling or uncomfortable silence, instead the table is bustling with laughter and innocent sibling rivalries that play out through friendly banter. This is how I always wished my family dinners would be like, but until now I never knew that it was even possible.

After our dinner, I settle into a rhythm with Marco and Mari doing the dishes. Marco washes, I dry, and Mari puts them away. Dinner was pleasant, his parents asked me all of the stereotypical questions such as if I'm in school, what I want to do, and of course if I have a girlfriend. Aside from the blush that naturally grew on my face at that last question, it was overall very bearable. With the three of us working on dishes it doesn’t take long to complete.

“Hey Jean?” Marco calls to me.

“Yeah?” I respond turning to face him.

“It’s getting late, why don’t you just stay here tonight?” I glance at the clock and see its already a half past eight. 

“Sounds good to me.” I say shyly as a blush yet again creeps onto my face.

“Here follow me, I'll get you some comfier clothes to change into.” With that I follow him through the hallways of his welcoming home until we reach his bedroom. Digging through the drawers of his dresser he pulls out sweatpants and a tee shirt for me. Setting the clothes down on the foot of the bed he pauses before looking me in the eyes, “You know Jean, your dad does have a point. Maybe you should give rehab a try again.”

“Not you too, Marco.” My voice pleading.

“I know it didn’t work the first time but maybe this time it wont be so bad. You’ve already got a head start because you’re almost two weeks sober.”

“I’m doing fine on my own Marco, I can manage this by myself.” My words come out harsher than I anticipate. Stepping towards me he cups my face in his hands. 

“Jean. Just because you’re a highly functioning addict and you’ve managed to not kill yourself so far doesn’t mean you’re managing fine on your own. It’s okay to get help, it’s okay to not be able to do it all on your own. There’s no shame in going to rehab.” His face is stern and his tone is serious. The intensity of which the words come out make me want to shrink away. I feel like I'm being scolded though I know that’s not whats happening. Releasing me from his hands he steps behind me into the door way, “You can change in here and then meet me in the living room, we can watch some movies or something.” Once again the smile has returned to his face and his voice has softened. Closing the door behind him I’m left alone to let his words sink in.

They grey sweatpants and plain black tee hang loosely on my body but not so much that they’re uncomfortable. I fold my slacks and button down placing them on the corner of his desk with my shoes on the floor by the door. Exiting the room I walk the hallways alone until I come to the living room where Marco is already lounging on the couch flipping through movie options. Settling down on the other end of the couch we decide on the 1984 Red Dawn movie.

 

* * *

 

“No... Stop... P-please...” Waking up I hear the murmured words coming from Marco. The room is dark aside from the glow of the TV and the movie has ended. It's now a little past eleven at night. Standing up I fumble my way to the other side of the couch, grabbing the blanket off of the back of the couch as I sit down next to Marco. In his sleep he continues to beg for whatever is happening to stop.

“Marco, Marco wake up.” I say softly as I gently shake his shoulder. Suddenly his eyes snap open with fear. It takes a moment for him to realize what is going on. “Hey it’s okay Marco. It was just a dream.”

Relaxing back into the couch I drape the blanket over his body. With an arm resting over his eyes I see in the light from the TV a tear slide down his face. Laying down next to him on the narrow couch Marco immediately turns to bury his face in my chest and I wrap my arms around him. His hands grab at the fabric of my shirt as he takes in a wavering breath.

"Is this why you've been so exhausted lately, you've been having nightmares?" He gives a gentle nod of his head. Consumed by exhaustion it takes him mere minutes to succumb to sleep once again. In the doorway I hear the faint voices of his parents conversation.

“I really can’t believe it. After what happened in Jinae, I never thought we would see Marco being so open and...  _Vulnerable_  with someone again.” His father whispers.

“I didn’t think we would either. Jean appears to be good for him, since he’s been spending so much time with him he’s starting to get back to his old self again.” his mom replies.

Pulling the sleeping boy closer I take in a deep breath. Marco, what happened to you in Jinae?


	7. What Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean sucks at Mario Kart and some truths are revealed
> 
>  
> 
> TW: Past abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have my computer working again, meaning no more typing on my phone!
> 
> This is yet again another longer chapter in comparison to previous ones, hopefully setting a new standard for myself to write longer chapters.
> 
> As per usual, thank you to everyone who has stopped by to read, left comments, or kudos. It means a lot to me and i really hope you are enjoying this fic!

Fall break for the others has now ended and our routines have all returned to normal, mostly. I've barely seen or even talked to Marco since Thanksgiving but I chalk it up to him preparing for this semester’s finals. Between Marco being distant and Connie picking up more hours at the hospital and cramming for finals, I’ve been left mostly to my own devices these last two weeks. For someone who has little self-control when I’m left all alone, this hasn’t been good for my sobriety. I relapsed again. The day after Thanksgiving having returned to Connie’s, I relapsed that night. With everything that happened that day I needed an escape for a while. And then the next day, and the day after that, and after that too. Two weeks and I’ve been using everyday now. The others haven’t seemed to notice my lapse in sobriety as they’re all too preoccupied with what’s going on in their own lives. I don’t blame them for not noticing. After all it isn’t their job to make sure I stay on the wagon, that’s all up to me unfortunately. Just one more week, then their finals will be over and things will get better again. I won’t be so alone again. 

There’re a few inches of snow covering the ground so the streets of Trost have been fairly quiet today. I don’t really know where I’m going, I’m just letting my feet take me wherever they see fit despite the snow that is falling from the sky. I’m quite fond of winter. The way the snow covers everything in a blanket of white seems to make the city sleep. It gets quieter and more surreal when you walk the streets on a winter night like tonight. Though the cold should be nipping at my exposed skin I’m feeling warm and safe wandering downtown. Whether that’s because of the drugs coursing through my system or not, I don’t have a single complaint about it. It’s getting late now, towards eight PM. I really should be heading back to the house but I’m feeling so at peace where I’m at now. 

“Jean? What are you doing out here in the snow?” A voice calls out to me. Turning on my heels I see the freckled boy the voice belongs to. 

“I’m just wandering around.” My voice is hoarse from little use. Stepping close to me, Marco removes the scarf from around his neck and places it over my own.  

“It’s too cold to be walking around here without even a sweater on, Jean. Come on, let me drive you home.” He says while turning around, shopping bags in hand. I follow him to his car without objection. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve last seen him. 

“You look like you’ve been getting better sleep.” I say once we’ve settled down in the car. 

“I have, despite studying like crazy for exams. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, there’s just a lot on my plate right now.” His words come out with an edge of sadness to them. 

“Hey don’t worry about it, your finals are important.” I reassure. 

“I know, but it doesn’t take much time for me to send you a text here and there even if I’m studying. I’ve just been kind of a lousy friend lately.” He puts the car into drive and starts heading to Connie’s house. 

“Marco that’s not true. Like you said, you have a lot of stuff on your plate right now and I understand that.” As much as it’s sucked not talking to him a lot, I get that his studies come first. 

“Just one more week and exams will be over. Then I promise I’ll be around more. Connie’s mentioned to me he’s thinking of throwing some sort of post exams celebration, whatever that means.” He says. 

“He hasn’t said anything to me about it but knowing him that means he’ll probably invite people over to get trashed with. He might be a nurse but that kid sure likes to party.” I chuckle. I never quite understood that about Connie, he loves to smoke pot and every once in a while he’ll drink which is something you’d think someone who’s a nurse would be against doing. He’s never let it interfere with his work and he takes his studying seriously, he just also likes to indulge in delinquency. 

It’s not long before we’re parked in the cracked driveway of the house. It looks like Marco is contemplating what to say so I end the silence for him as I open the car door, “Thanks for giving me a ride.” I end with a smile. 

“You looked like you could use it,” He gives me a smile and pauses before continuing, “I’ll text you when I get home, okay?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” The smile on my face grows wider. I watch from the doorway as he pulls out on the street and turns the corner. It’s not until I get to the bedroom that I realize I still have his navy scarf draped around my neck, having forgotten to give it back once we were in the car. Folding the scarf, I place it over the back of the futon before stripping out of my jeans and long sleeve. Not even bothering to put on sweatpants I crawl into the bed in just my boxers.  

 _Bzz. Bzz._  

 **From: Freckles**  

 _I made it home safe_  

 **From: Freckles**  

 _I was wondering if you’ll grab lunch with me tomorrow and maybe help me study?_  

 **To: Freckles**  

 _I’d love to do that Marco_  

Before I can even wait for a response from him, I can feel myself dozing in and out of sleep. I don’t try to fight it so I allow my eyes to fall shut and drift off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

I wake up to sunlight pouring onto my face and shaky hands. The first thing I reach for is a loaded syringe. Ignoring the silver cross hanging from my neck that is peaking through my peripheral vision, I gently insert the needle into my arm. Almost instantly a wave of warmth washes over my body and the shaking in my fingertips subsides. My body has become even more dependent on the heroine in these past weeks due to the regular everyday use. Thumbing through my phone I read the missed messages from Marco last night telling me when and where to meet him for lunch. I have about an hour before I'm supposed to meet him at the diner. 

After taking a quick shower I throw on a pair of black jeans and a white tee shirt. I contemplate putting on my Titans hoodie but seeing as that’s pretty much the only thing I ever wear I decide to mix it up a bit. Digging through the back of the closet I pull out an old olive green jacket. It will definitely be warmer than a worn-out hoodie. Slipping my Converse on I move onto my hair. I’m not sure why I’m putting so much thought into my appearance today, it’s not like there’s anything special in helping a friend study. Grabbing Marco’s scarf and placing my cigarettes in my pocket, I head out the door to the diner. 

Walking in I find Marco seated at the booth where we first shared lunch. Walking up with a smile I slide onto the seat across from him. Nose deep in his notes he doesn’t seem to notice me at first. 

“G’ morning Marco.” I say softly. Looking up he flashes me that perfect grin of his. 

“Hi Jean, thanks for helping me with this. My first exam is tomorrow and I’m really stressing over it.” Organizing his notes, he takes in a deep breath. Handing me a packet he continues, “Can you quiz me on these vocab words?”  

We begin to eat our meal over my butchered pronunciation of medical terms. Every time I wildly mispronounce something Marco lets out a sweet chuckle and corrects me. We're about halfway through the first page when I realize how hot I am in my jacket. Without thinking about it I slip it off and return to quizzing Marco across from me. Immediately the chipper tone of his voice changes and it doesn’t take long for me to figure out why. Naturally, he’s spotted my arms. They’re worse than the first time he witnessed them. With bruises and track marks not only residing on the insides of both of my elbows, they also have infiltrated my forearms this time around. 

“I know it looks bad, but I'll get back on track.” I try to say confidently, hoping he won't lecture me. 

“If there is anything I can do to help just let me know okay? You know I’m here for whatever you need Jean.” His voice has a serious tone to it but his eyes are still soft, not stern like the last time he talked to me with such intensity in his words. “Now, what’s the next word?” Turning back to the packet in my hand we continue our quizzing. 

We eventually part ways after our meal and study session as Marco has to get back to the University for his next class. Feeling more confident about his final tomorrow, he asks me if I’ll meet him between his classes the following days to help with studying. Of course I say yes, how could I possibly say no to him? 

Lighting up a cigarette to keep my shaky hands occupied I begin the walk back home with two things on my mind; that freckled face and my next dose. 

 

* * *

 

It’s finally Friday, meaning exams at Trost U are now over. Connie doesn’t waste any time getting ready for his post exam celebration. Walking through the front door he and Sasha have their arms full of booze. Marco trails in behind them. Dropping his backpack down on the ground Marco takes a seat next to me on the couch. Noticing my agitated state and the tremors in my hands he carefully places a comforting hand on my knee. 

“How are you doing Jean?” His eyebrows furrow. 

“I’m... I’ll be alright.” I feign a smile. I used the last of my supply last night, leaving me itching for more. The sudden lack of opiates in my system is taking its toll on me already. 

“If you need anything, tell me.” Giving my knee a gentle squeeze,  he stands to join the other two in the kitchen. 

From the kitchen I can hear Sasha say that Eren and company are coming over and that they’ll be here soon. Great, just what I needed, to be jonesing for another dose and for my supplier to be hanging around. Rolling my eyes, I saunter my way to the front door placing a cigarette between my lips. It may not be exactly what my body wants right now but it’s better than nothing. 

The sun begins to duck behind the mountains on the horizon as I snuff out my cigarette under foot. As if on cue, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin pull up. I give a nod of acknowledgement to them as they walk through the front door. Lingering outside for a moment I debate lighting up another cancer stick but ultimately decide against it as my flannel won’t keep me warm enough now that the sun has started setting. 

Once inside I’m welcomed to the warm atmosphere of music and my friends’ laughter. I take up the seat next to Sasha who’s already breaking into the snacks she brought. Marco is helping Armin set up a game of Mario Kart while Connie and Eren are pouring some drinks for everyone. 

“Yo Jean, you want a drink?” Connie calls. 

“Yeah sure, can you make me my usual?” He gives me a nod. 

“A vodka Sprite lemonade for you,” Connie says while handing me a cup, “A Kraken and Pepsi for Mikasa, tequila and punch for Sasha, and a rum and Coke for me.” 

Taking a gulp of my drink I let the burn in the back of my throat warm my body. Looking around Everyone seems to be having a good time. Marco and Armin are the only one’s not drinking. In all the years I’ve known Armin I don’t think I’ve ever seen him even touch a drop of alcohol. He’s always been the one to look after Mikasa and Eren while they’re drinking. 

Sitting on the couch I’m just observing everything. Marco and Armin are on their third round of Mario Kart, both seem to be filled with joy. Connie and Sasha are rolling a few joints while listening to Eren and Mikasa complain about their finals. Everyone seems so content, so why can’t I find a way to force even a halfway decent smile onto my face? Finishing my drink, I walk to the kitchen to refill my cup. 

As the night goes on, I feel myself being affected by the alcohol more and more. Despite my intoxicated state, it doesn’t do much to ward off my ever growing need to stick a needle in my arm. However, even though my body is starving for more heroine, I’m feeling pretty good. Bringing myself to my feet I realize just how drunk I am. Everyone in the room is having a good time and a symphony of laughter is ever present. Four vodka heavy drinks in and I finally have a smile on my face. 

“Hey Jean, want to play a round with me? Marco’s taking a break outside for some fresh air.” Armin calls to me. 

“Sure, why not? As long as I get to be Yoshi.” I say with slurred speech making my way to the couch next to him. “How’ve you been Armin, it’s been a while?” 

“I’m good, glad that finals are over now. How are you doing?” The short blonde asks me. 

“I’m better now that I have a few drinks in me.” 

We play a few rounds while waiting for Marco to rejoin us. Naturally I’m getting my ass kicked because rainbow road is hard enough as is, when you add seeing double into the mix it becomes damn near impossible. Somehow I’ve managed to get my Yoshi turned around and I’m attempting to drive the course backwards when I hear Marco come back in from outside. Momentarily distracted by his reappearance, I accidentally send Yoshi off the edge just as Armin crosses the finish line. I stand up, empty cup in hand, and realize I’ve done so a bit too fast as my vision blacks for second. I feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach lurch. 

“Looks like Jean’s gonna hurl.” I hear Eren say. 

“I got him.” Before he even finishes his sentence, Marco already has an arm around my waist as he’s leading me upstairs to the bathroom. Setting me down gently, I lean over the side of the cold porcelain and heave up the contents of my stomach. Marco sits himself on the side of the bathtub and gently rubs my back while I continue to rid the five solo cups worth of vodka from my stomach. 

Leaning back, I wipe my face and lean my head against Marco’s knee. “You don’t have to stay here you know, you can go back downstairs.” My slurred words fill the air with the chatter of the party below making its way up the stairs. 

“I know I don’t have to, I want to.” Moving from his position on the edge of the bathtub he slides down to sit next to me. Shivering, I lean back over the toilet to continue my heaving. This isn’t happening just because of the alcohol, this is my body going into withdrawal as well. Finally catching a break I move to get more comfortable. Placing my head in Marco’s lap I stare up that him. A flush of red has crawled up onto his cheeks. 

“What are you smiling at?” He asks shyly before running his fingers through my hair comfortingly. 

“Huh? I’m smiling?” My words come out as if I’m talking in cursive and the vodka seems to have removed my mental filter, “I just think you’re cute is all. How could I not smile when you’re playing with my hair like that?” I can feel the blood returning to my face in the form of a blush. Closing my eyes, another wave of shivers and nausea hits me but not strong enough to warrant moving from my newfound comfort. 

“Here, he’ll want these. Even if he says he’s hot make, sure he keeps the blanket on and try to get him to drink some water too.” Even though my eyes are shut I know the voice belongs to Eren. 

“O-okay.” Marco sounds confused. 

“He’s detoxing. Trust me I’ve sat up many nights with him like this, he might complain about you forcing the blanket and water on him but he’ll thank you in the morning. Or whenever he comes around, that is.” I hear his steps fade out as he walks down the creaking stairs. 

Feeling claustrophobic, I sit up and begin fumbling with the buttons of my flannel. With every button I manage to get undone I feel a little bit better. Having somehow successfully undone every button, I lay my head back down into Marco’s lap. 

“A cross? I didn’t know you were religious, Jean.” His hand grabs at the silver cross resting on top of my undershirt. 

“Oh yeah, I guess I am.” I say with a chuckle. 

“You guess?” He asks quizzically. 

“I mean, I’m not exactly the model Christian boy, am I?” 

“You don’t have to be perfect to believe in something, Jean.” His fingers continue to run through my hair. Turning on my side and nuzzling my face into his leg, I let him cover my body in the blanket Eren brought for me.

 

* * *

 

“Hmmf...” The noise escapes my mouth as I wake up, rolling onto my back. I feel Marco adjust to my movements. “What time is it?” I mumble with a raspy voice. 

“A little after two AM,” he replies sleepily, “do you want to move somewhere more comfortable?” 

I nod my head in agreement. The pounding in my skull and shivers running through my body are begging for something softer than the tile floor. Helping me to my feet Marco grabs the blanket and places it around my shoulders like a cape. A soft smile creeps onto his face while he places his hand on my back urging me forward to the bedroom. It appears everyone else has passed out downstairs as there’s no one in the room when we enter. 

“G-god damn it.” I murmur, my trembling hands making it nearly impossible to undo the belt around my hips. In frustration I drop down to sit on the edge of the bed and cover my face with my hands. I just want to get out of these uncomfortable sweat soaked clothes. 

“Do... Do you want me to help?” His voice is quiet and unsure. In my defeat, I nod my head yes. Slowly lowering my hands from my face, he pulls my green flannel off my shoulders and removes it from my arms. Almost instantly I’m hit with chills. Standing me up his hands drop lower to unbuckle my belt and release the button on my jeans. I place my hands on his shoulders to aid in keeping my balance as I step out of the pile of denim at my feet. 

“Do you want me to get you a new shirt to put on?” He asks after sitting me back down on the bed. 

“N-no, this one will be fine.” I say shyly. I really would prefer a different shirt but it’s embarrassing enough needing his help to undress, I don’t want to face the further embarrassment of him seeing the full extent of how I’m practically turning into a skeleton with my ribs and collar bones sticking out so prominently. 

Shuffling around the room Marco brings the trash can out from under the desk and places it beside the bed in case I need to hurl again during the night. Too weak to hold myself up any longer I flop down on the bed, wrestling with the blanket as I attempt to pull it over my body. Coming to my aid like a knight in shining armor, Marco once again lends a hand by tucking me in. 

“I’ll be right here on the futon if you need anything. Even if I’m asleep I want you to wake me up, okay?” He says taking a seat on the black futon. 

“Y-you don’t have to sleep on the futon. It’s not that comfortable anyway. You can sleep in the bed too... If you want that is.” Feeling the intense burn of color on my cheeks I bury my face in the blanket. Without looking up I hear Marco changing into different clothes and the light switch flip off. Moments later the bed is shaking with the movement of Marco crawling up beside me. 

“Are you cold? You’re shaking a lot.” his voice comes from behind me. 

“A little.” I admit. I feel his hand trail over my side finding its place on my sternum. Pulling me in so my back is flush against his chest I let my legs intertwine with his. Surrounded by his warmth I feel so safe and content, even though my body is at war with itself in this moment. Allowing myself to fully give into his touch I drift off to sleep once again. 

 

* * *

 

“I had no idea he relapsed so bad, I should have been paying more attention.” A voice says. 

“I only found out a few days ago, I figured you knew or I would have said something to you. I’m sorry Connie.” Another voice says. I can feel someone running their fingers through my hair. My mind is too foggy to clearly make out who all is talking. 

“Hmm...” I let out a groan as I roll onto my back forcing my eyes to open. Blinded by the light in the room I can’t keep them open for long periods of time. Pushing my palms into my eyes and rubbing I let out yet another groan. My body aches all over and my mouth feels like the Sahara.  

“How ya feelin’ buddy?” Turning my head I see Connie on the futon. He looks worn out. 

“Like shit.” My voice barely comes out as a whisper. My throat feels raw, probably from throwing up so much. 

“Try and sit up and drink some water.” He says while holding out a bottle of water to me. I slowly drag myself up onto my elbows and reach for the bottle. My weak hands barely have it in them to get the bottle to the bed, and they definitely don’t have the strength to open it as I sit there struggling for what feels like forever to open it. 

“Let me get that Jean.” In bed next to me Marco leans forward, taking the bottle from me and opening it with ease. Handing it back to me he continues, “Drink up, you need it.” 

I gulp down about half the bottle before I have to stop to take a breath. I always underestimate how satisfying it is to drink water until I’ve gone who knows how long without it. Connie and Marco both remain silent while I continue drinking the bottle to completion. There’s a layer of discomfort in the air. 

“Why didn’t you say anything about relapsing?” Connie asks. He’s not mad, he seems... Hurt. 

“You had finals to study for, the last thing you needed to do was add worrying about me to the list of stuff you were stressing over.” I respond, my voice stronger now that I’m not breathing out dust. 

“I understand that, but Jean you know I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I know, I’m sorry Connie. I just didn’t want to stress you more. I’m sorry.” I say as I drop my gaze to my lap. 

“It’s alright kid, are you feeling up to today?” Connie asks. 

“Yeah, I think I just need to eat something. What day is it anyway?” I ask 

“Sunday morning. Well anyway, I have to head into work but I should be home by dinner. You should take a shower and eat something okay. If you need anything call me.” Connie says while throwing on a jacket before leaving. He’s right, a shower does sound nice. 

“You go take a shower and when you’re all finished we’ll grab some lunch.” Marco says in a cheery voice. I almost forgot he was sitting in the bed next to me. He also looks pretty worn. I wonder how much sleep he’s gotten the last two nights seeing as he’s been watching over me. 

Slowly crawling out of the bed I grab a towel from the hall closet and make my way to the bathroom. In the mirror I can see how drained I look. Pale skin, bloodshot eyes surrounded by dark circles, cracked lips. I look like a damn corpse if I’m being honest. I don’t spend too much time looking in the mirror before quickly stripping and stepping into the hot water of the shower. Trying to think back to my drunken Friday night I can’t remember much. I remember playing Mario Kart with Armin and I remember Marco walking me to the bathroom but that’s about it. After washing myself, I stand under the flow of the shower head until all the hot water runs out. I shut off the water and wrap the towel around my hips before walking back to the bedroom. I figure Marco has gone downstairs because he’s no longer in the room. Quickly throwing on some clothes I make my way down the steps to find the freckled boy. 

“Ready?” He says as I come down the stairs. Keys in hands and a smile on his face he steps to the front door and I follow suit. “There’s a good drive in nearby we can go to.” 

Most of the drive is spent in a comfortable silence. I’m too drained to try to come up with something to say and Marco seems to have picked up on that. Pulling into the drive in, we order our food. Marco furrows his eyebrows deep in thought before taking in a breath. 

“Jean, I want to explain why I was so distant after Thanksgiving.” He says. 

“You were studying for exams so you were too busy.” I reply. 

“No - well I mean yes that’s part of it, but there’s more I didn’t tell you.” His eyes are trained on the steering wheel and I can tell that this is going to be a serious conversation. “I’ve been going to therapy after class twice a week. I’m telling you this because my therapist said I should try talking about it all with someone I trust, and well, I really trust you Jean.” He makes eye contact with me for a brief moment at my name before returning his gaze to the steering wheel. 

“When I lived in Jinae I was in an abusive relationship. It didn’t start off bad but it was so gradual I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten until it was too late. It started off with small things like always wanting to know where I was or wanting me to spend less time with my friends and more time with him. Then things escalated and we were getting into arguments all the time. He was always trying to pressure and guilt me into doing things I didn’t want to do and we would end up fighting over it. Sometimes he would grab me a bit too sternly and leave bruises on me but I never thought much of it. I just figured it was always an accident, he didn’t mean to hurt me. I mean he always said he was sorry when it happened.” Wiping tears from his eyes he takes in a wavering breath before continuing. 

“One night we were at my house like usual. He kept trying to pressure me into having sex with him despite the fact that I had made it clear that I wasn’t ready for that yet. So we started arguing again, but things quickly got out of hand and... And he hit me. He threw me on the ground and sat on my chest just hitting me. All I could do was beg for him to stop but he wouldn’t. I eventually found my voice and yelled for my parents and Mari, I was calling for anyone to help me. It felt like it took forever but then my dad burst through the door and pulled him off of me. I don’t really remember what happened next, I just remember lots of yelling and crying and my mom holding me while trying to clean up the blood. 

“He ended up breaking my nose and knocking out a tooth. I also had a cracked rib and some bone bruising in quite a few places. I ended things with him the next day but it didn’t seem to change much. He would come into my work or follow me around the university campus harassing me. Every time he would try to touch me I would get terrified that he was going to hit me again. I just couldn’t shake him, he was everywhere I looked. I lucked out though. My dad was already in the process of looking for a new job and he had a few offers around Jinae, and then one here in Trost. I like to think that he took the job here because it was the better one and the one he wanted more, but I know deep down he took it for me. My parents wanted nothing more than for me to feel safe again, even if that meant uprooting our whole lives. 

“I still get scared. I have nightmares of him on top of me hitting me, my heart skips a beat every time I see someone who resembles him, sometimes I even flinch when someone raises their hand a bit too fast. He really messed with me. He claimed he loved me but then didn’t even think twice before breaking my bones.” Interrupted by a tap on the window a carhop has arrived with our food. Marco takes in a breath before rolling it down and taking the bag. Thanking the car hop he rolls the window back up. I completely forgot we were even waiting on food. After hearing Marco’s story I’m not even sure how hungry I am anymore. How could someone do that to a person so loving like Marco? 

“Marco...” I don’t know what else to say but I know I need to say something. 

“Jean, I’m telling you all of this because I trust you. Since that happened I haven’t felt safe with anyone other than my family. But for some reason I find myself unafraid when I’m with you. Like nothing bad will happen as long as you’re nearby. I know it sounds stupid and I don’t understand it but, but that’s just how I feel.” He says while staring down at the food in his lap. 

“Marco, look at me,” hesitantly he lifts his head to meet my eyes. His chestnut brown eyes are full of tears and his face is flushed with red from holding back from crying, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Not ever again. As long as I’m around you’ll be safe.” As soon as I finish, the dam breaks. Tears come flooding from his eyes and soft whimpers escape his mouth. Reaching over I wipe the tears from his cheeks and reassure him that everything will be okay. After a few minutes he calms down and we eat our food in silence, both of us processing what just happened. 

I don’t know how, but I promise I will do everything in my power to protect you, Marco. 


	8. Like a Puzzle Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will this be what Jean needs in order to turn his life around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I want to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who has been reading, commenting, leaving kudos, and now even bookmarking my work! You guys all make my day every time I see more and more people enjoying my writing.
> 
> I wanted to get this posted earlier but I've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff going on so I apologize that this chapter is kind of lacking, I just wanted to get some more content out there for you guys!
> 
> As per usual if you have any questions or comments please feel free to leave a comment and I'll try my best to respond to you as soon as I can! Thank you all!

Everything Marco told me echos in my ears. I’m having trouble comprehending it all. It makes no sense to me how someone can treat such a good person so bad. I don’t understand how people can intentionally hurt others and feel no remorse for it. The thought of it makes my blood boil. After our lunch today Marco drove me back to Connie’s in silence before going home himself. Neither of us knew what to say after the weight of his words. I knew something was going on with him I just never imagined it would be something so horrible. I cant bring myself to sleep tonight. Between finding out the painful truth of his life in Jinae, fighting off drug cravings, and Connie’s snoring its virtually impossible for me to get some shut eye.

_Bzz. Bzz._

**From: Freckles**

_I’m sorry if this wakes you up, I’m just having a really rough time trying to sleep_

Me and you both, Marco. Willing my shaky hands to type as quickly as they are able to I type out a reply.

**To: Freckles**

_You didn’t wake me up at all, is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to talk about anything?_

**From: Freckles**

_I just keep having flashbacks from that night, my anxiety is kicking my butt tonight. I’m sorry for burdening you with all of  this, I know you have enough of your own stuff going on_

**To: Freckles**

_It’s not a burden. That’s what I’m here for Marco, no matter how much I have going on_ _in my_ _own life. So whatever you need I’m here to help with_

**From: Freckles**

_Can you tell me about when you played volleyball? Maybe it will help keep my mind off of things._

I spend the next hour telling Marco all about when I played volleyball. I start off with the moment I fell in love with the sport. I was watching the Olympics with my parents in the sixth grade. On our home volleyball team there was a player from Trost. He was definitely the teams ace. Every time it looked like the other team was going to score and take the set, the setter would send the ball to him and he would get a flawless point. Because of him we ended up winning gold that year. Watching someone from my home town playing in the Olympics and playing with such  _beauty_ had me in utter amazement. I remember turning around and telling my parents I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.

The next year in middle school I joined the volleyball team. I was terrible. Receives were the worst for me, the ball connecting with the inside of my arms would sting and turn them bright red. I couldn’t aim the receive anywhere either. I wasn’t great at serving but I could at least get it over the net. The one thing I was good at was spiking. No matter the toss, too high or too low, to fast or too slow, I would find a way to hit it. Because I was naturally good at spiking the coach put me in the wing spiker position. During practices he would have me work mostly on spiking. He wanted me to be the perfect spiker but that wasn’t enough for me. I would practice everyday after school and every weekend from morning until night trying to also perfect my serves and receives. I would have Gabe or Connie toss the ball for me all day long until none of us could do it any longer. It was hard trying to become the perfect player when I had to coach myself for most of it.

My middle school team never did that well. In competitions we would be lucky to make it to the second round. It always made me angry because I wanted to do better. I wanted to make it to the Olympics. All of that changed in high school. Everyone on the high school team were more well rounded players. Like most teams, everyone excelled in their own area, but it wasn’t limited to that. Because of my countless hours of self training I blended well with the team being able to play in any position. I continued to play wing spiker and Connie took up the libero position. On our middle school team he was the only one to ever reliably receive the ball so playing libero fit him perfectly. Freshman and sophomore year our team went to nationals though I barely got to spend any time on the court being that I was an underclassmen and an alternate at the time. Junior year and senior year I was on the starting line. That’s when I became the teams new ace. I had perfected the jump serve and could rack up a handful of points just from serving. My receives still weren’t the best but I more than made up for that with my ability to block and score points. We came in second in nationals my junior year, but my senior year we were undefeated and took first place at nationals with ease. I was scouted by a handful of colleges and professional trainers. Connie was scouted as well and even offered some scholarships. In the fall I was supposed to start at Trost University under a volleyball scholarship, but that never happened.

After my last message I wait for Marco’s response. It’s already been an hour since we started talking and I know he was tired before hand so I assume he fell asleep. Waiting a little bit longer before determining that I won’t get another response tonight, I close my eyes and move closer to Connie in the bed trying to get warmer.

* * *

 

The cigarette smoke burns my lungs. I make the conscious choice to blow the smoke out to my left seeing as Marco is walking on my right side. In front of us Connie and Sasha are dorking around. It’s a nice sunny day so we all decided to have some fun downtown. The city is starting to put up all of the Christmas decorations. 

“Wow I didn’t think they could possibly decorate more down here. I mean they already had lights hung up everywhere, but a giant Christmas tree and an out door ice rink?” Marco stares up at the huge tree that is being assembled in the park right next to the small impromptu ice rink that’s just been finished. There’s already small groups of kids lining up to get skates and scuff up the ice.

“Yeah downtown Trost seems to go all out with big holiday decorations, don’t they?” I say taking the last puff of my cigarette before putting it out and throwing away the butt. “You ever been ice skating?” I ask.

A blush creeps up onto his face, “Only once a few years ago. Mari and I went and she spent the whole time laughing at me because I kept falling.”

“Want to try again?” I can feel my face turning red but I hope I can pass it off as just being wind bitten from the cold breeze.

“As long as you don’t laugh at me when I fall.” He says with a smile.

“If you’re ice skating we’re coming too!” Sasha says whipping around to face us.

“Hell yeah we’re coming!” Connie adds.

Following Connie and Sasha’s lead we make our way to the skate rental. The skates are all old, the black and brown leather faded and worn. The laces are all frayed at the ends as well. Sitting on a bench I slide off my converse and replace them with the ice skates. Years of use have broken them in making them fairly comfortable. Quickly lacing them and tying the strings in a knot I enter the rink without waiting for the others. Taking in a deep breath of cold winter air, I take the first strides across the ice. I haven’t skated since last winter so this lap around the ice is a nice warm up to remembering how to move on the slippery surface. Having finished my lap, I exit the rink to rejoin with the others.

“Ice legs still work?” Connie asks while finishing tying Sasha’s skates for her.

“Mostly.” I chuckle. Connie and Sasha both make their way to the ice. Standing wobbly, Marco attempts a step forwards towards me and the door of the ice rink. Lending and arm for support Marco and I step onto the Ice. I enter the rink first and turn to face him. Hesitantly he places his first foot on the ice and almost falls as soon as the second foot slides into the rink. Reaching out I grab hold of his shoulders to help him balance and gently guide him out of the entrance and against the wall.

“Jeez as soon as I set my clumsy feet on the ice you’re already coming to my rescue.” He says with a cheery smile.

“It’s my pleasure.” I can feel my face burning with a growing blush as I hold out my right arm next to him in an offer. Shyly, he links his arm with mine. We start off slow with me teaching him how to move his feet to take a smooth stride without falling. Once he’s more or less comfortable with the movement we begin to pick up the pace a little bit. 

“Shit!” I yelp as I fall flat on my ass, dragging Marco down with me.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one doing all the falling?” He says through laughter.

“My skate caught a chip in the ice, it’s not my fault!” The words come out jumbled with laughter as I struggle back to my feet and offer a hand to Marco who’s still sitting on the ice. Once back on his feet, instead of grabbing hold of my arm again, he intertwines his fingers with mine. I don’t think my face has ever been so red before.

“Ready?” He says with a bright smile and pink under his freckles. It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts and come back down to earth.

“Y-yeah.” I say softly. Slowly we start making our way around the rink again. The rest of the time we spend skating both of our faces are littered with red and full of smiles. Part of me is upset when we all decide to call it quits and leave the rink because I don’t want his hand to leave mine. For some reason, having his hand in mine feels right.

Lighting up a cigarette as we walk away from the now crowded outdoor rink, I still can’t stop thinking about Marco lacing his fingers between mine. Taking a drag off of my cigarette, suddenly my feet come to a stop. I’m trying but I can’t make them move and my head feels faint. The sound of my heart pounding fills my ears.

“Jean? Jean are you alright you’re looking pale.” I hear Connie’s voice but I can’t see him as my vision blacks and I collapse to the ground. “Sasha call for help.” I hear him say while placing a hand on my back before I feel myself slip out of consciousness.

* * *

 

The rhythmic sound of beeping and the thick scent of antiseptic flood my senses. I can feel someone holding my hand tight and murmurs of medical talk in the background. I take in a deep breath and force my eyes open. Im instantly blinded by the white fluorescents above me. The hand around mine squeezes tighter. Looking to see who it belongs to I turn my head groggily to my left. Seated in a chair beside me, Connie has a look of worry strewn across his face. Sasha and Marco stand at the wall behind him.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” He feigns a smile.

“W-what happened?” I ask, starting to wake up more. Sasha and Marco silently listen to us, both looking concerned.

“You collapsed at the park. When Hanji is done talking to your parents she’ll explain everything.” He says giving my hand another gentle squeeze. Looking out the large window that makes up most of the wall by the door, I can see Hanji in her white lab coat talking to my parents in the hallway.  _Great_  just what I want to deal with right now. With a deep sigh I look back up at the shining lights above me and let my head sink further down into the pillow.

“Hey kid, how are you feeling?” My dad’s voice is surprisingly soft as he comes up next to me on the other side of the bed, my mom next to him.

“Like shit.” I say without making eye contact. Instead I find Hanji’s gaze at the foot of the bed. Being surrounded like this in a hospital bed gives me the creeps. “Hanji what’s the deal?”

“Jean, can you please call her Dr. Zoe while we’re here?” My mom asks kindly.

“It’s not a problem, he can call me that here if he wants to.” Her voice sharp and professional. “Jean I was just explaining to your parents what’s going on. In short, you were having heart arrhythmia. Essentially that means your heart was beating irregularly. Because of the irregular beating we believe oxygen wasn’t being circulated to your brain, causing you to lose consciousness like you did. Now it sounds bad but it’s really nothing to be too terribly worried about right now. There are treatments for it and some cases don’t even require any treatment. From the test results and the monitoring we’ve been doing it doesn’t appear that you will need any treatment for now. Your arrhythmia has subsided for the time being. However, I think you know what I’m going to say next.” She pauses to wait for me to give her a signal that I know whats coming.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” I mutter.

“This is most likely due to your drug use. You have no preexisting conditions and none that run in your family. I’m saying this as your doctor first, but also as someone that loves you dearly, if you keep abusing drugs like this you will die. You’ve lost roughly twenty pounds in this past year, you don’t eat or sleep enough, and the drugs you use are tearing your body apart. I want you to really think about your options, Jean. I’m not going to tell you what to do, I know you won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I hope you make the decision you think is best.” Her words hit me like a semi barreling into a brick wall. Closing my eyes I hear her footsteps trail out of the room at the sound of her being paged. 

I take a moment to let the reality of the situation sink in. This is something I was always told would happen to me, but I didn’t think it actually would. I thought I was invincible. Opening my eyes I take a look around the room. Connie has now joined an anxious looking Marco and Sasha against the wall. I finally turn to make eye contact with my parents. My mom’s appearance catches me off guard. Her typically made up face and hair are completely undone. Her sandy hair has been pulled up into a messy bun and theres no trace of make up on her skin. Her eyes are red from crying. My dad looks worn. His tie has been loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. In his eyes I can see that he’s worried about me.

“Jean, I know I sound like a broken record but -”

“I’ll go." I cut him off. The whole room is silent at my words.

“Jean are you saying you’ll go to rehab?” My moms voice cracks but there’s and edge of hope in it.

“Yeah mom, I’ll go. I’ll go to rehab.” I try to give her as much of a smile as I can muster. I see a few tears silently slide down her face.

“Dr. Zoe wants to keep you here over night and given that nothing arises, you’ll be discharged in the morning. Are you willing to go tomorrow once you’re discharged?” My dad asks.

“It’s best to admit me before I change my mind.” Averting my gaze back to the lights above me I wait for my parents response.

“I’ll go make arrangements." He says before exiting the room.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” My mom’s soft voice fills my ears. Her gentle hand runs through my hair before she moves to place a kiss on the top of my head. “We’ll let you get some rest now.” I watch as she follows my father’s path out of the room. 

“Hey Jean? I have to take Sasha to work. I’ll come back later, okay?” Connie interrupts the silence. I give him a hum of understanding. “You take care of yourself, alright.” He and Sasha part ways after ruffling my hair. Now it’s just Marco and I. I’m not sure if I can bring myself to look at him knowing how much I worried him.

“I’m sorry Marco.” 

“You have no reason to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He says while stepping towards me and stopping at the side of the bed. His face tells me everything I need to know, the furrowed brows, the tear streaked cheeks, the gnawed on bottom lip. I worried the hell out of him. Taking in another deep breath I continue.

“I’m sorry I worried you so much. But I’ll be okay, even Hanji said my heart should be fine. And... And I’m going to go to rehab, I’ll get help Marco.” I look up to meet his brown eyes. Chewing on his bottom lip again I can tell he’s fighting back more tears. Reaching up I cup his chin in my hand, “Hey now, you’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”

“I’m proud of you Jean. I know it’s hard to make the decision to get help but I’m so proud of you for doing it. I just want you to be happy and healthy.” I wipe away the silent tear that’s escaped his eye, “If you want me to, I’ll be there to see you off.”

“I would love that Marco. I really would.” A genuine smile finds its way onto my face. 

“Do you want me to go so you can get some rest?” I can tell by the tone of his voice he doesn’t want to leave any more than I want him to.

“No, you don’t have to go. If you don’t mind I'd actually like it if you could stay.” My hand still cupping his face I gently move my thumb across his cheek to get rid of the streaks from tears. He gives me a gentle smile and lowers himself into the chair next to me. Dropping my hand from his face I grab ahold of his hand and he lets out a sigh of relief before lacing his fingers with mine once again. 

* * *

 

I feel like a complete child sitting in the back seat of my parents’ car. I was discharged from the hospital this morning and now my parents are driving me to Connie’s house to pack a bag for rehab seeing as most of my stuff is at his house rather than my own. I have to stay in rehab for a minimum of four weeks, and then after that it’ll be determined if I can leave or not. I’m definitely not looking forward to it. As much as I don’t want to go, I’ve realized that by not going all I’m doing is hurting the people around me. If I don’t sort myself out soon I’m going to get myself killed.

Pulling into the driveway my mom asks, “Do you want us to go in with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I can pack on my own.” I say while exiting the car and walking up the front porch, small duffle bag in hand. As soon as I open the door Rhonda is jumping up on me. I push past her with a few pats on the head to meet with the voices in the kitchen. 

“Hey Jean.” Connie’s voice comes out calm with a soft smile on his face. 

“Hey guys, I uh, I’m just here to pack some stuff before I go.” I talk with Hanji and Connie for a moment before heading upstairs. Alone in the bedroom I start pulling out my clothes from the dresser. I fill the bag with sweatpants and tee shirts, a pair of jeans, an extra hoodie, and finally socks and underwear. On top of my clothes I also throw in my copy of The Catcher in the Rye. I figure if I’m going to be in there for a month without my phone I should bring some form of entertainment with me. Zipping up my bag I take a look at myself in the mirror. My hair is an unkept mess, my eyes are red and surrounded by dark circles, my cheeks have hollowed, and the Titans hoodie that used to fit so well now hangs loosely on my body. I grab my pack of cigarettes off of the bed side table and flip it open. Only one left, how fitting for the situation. I stuff the pack into my pocket deciding that I’ll smoke the last one as close to my check in time as possible despite my current need for nicotine in my system.

At the front door, Hanji and Connie pull me into hugs and promise me they will visit when they can. Wishing me luck they watch from the porch as my parents navigate us towards Trost Rehab Center. In the back seat I pull out my phone and send Marco a text saying we are on our way. Resting my head against the window I close my eyes and silently hope that I’ll be able to make it through the month.

“Jean, we’re here sweetie.” My mom’s voice calls from the passengers seat. I must have dozed off during the drive. I give my mom a groan of acknowledgement. Opening the car door, I step out and pull my bag off of the seat, dropping it on the asphalt by my feet. I close the door and reach in my pocket pulling out my last cigarette and light it.

“Hey Jean.” I recognize Marco’s voice instantly.

“We’ll go get you checked in and give you two some time.” My mom says before walking through the front doors of the center with my dad.

“Thanks for coming Marco.” I say while blowing out smoke. Looking at him I take in everything I see. His hair is a bit messier than usual but it still looks nice and the dark circles have returned under his eyes. Around his neck the same navy scarf that he once wrapped around me is looped snug around him with the loose ends tucked into his black coat. In his hands he’s clutching and obviously well loved teddy bear.

“I know it’s cheesy, but this is for you. Whenever my anxiety is bad or I have nightmares or just a bad day in general, I’ll curl up in bed with this bear and it helps calm me down. I know these next few weeks are going to be hard for you so I want you to take him with you. Whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed or anything, I want you to give him a squeeze and take a deep breath to try and relax.” His cheeks are flushed with red.

“But what about you? If I have your bear what will you do when you need it?” 

“I’ll be okay, right now I think he can help you more than me. And if you’re that worried about it then you can give him back to me once you’re out, how about that?” I snuff out the butt of my cigarette underfoot and take a step towards Marco.

“Sounds like a plan.” I say with a smile and gently taking the brown bear from his hands. A toothy grin crawls onto the taller boy’s face. Out of the corner of my eye I spot my parents walking back down the steps towards us.

“Are you ready Jean?” My dad asks.

“Never will be, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice now.” I respond. Turning back to Marco I take a step forwards and wrap my arms around him. Burying my face in the scarf around his neck I take in a deep breath. One of his hands is gently rubbing my back while the other rests softly on the back of my head. Holding back the tears slowly growing in my eyes I pull away and we say our goodbyes.

With my bag over my shoulder and Marco’s teddy bear in hand, I walk up the steps and through the doors of Trost Rehab Center.


	9. Bears and Bunnies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now in rehab Jean has a hard road in front of him. Is he going to try and walk it on his own or accept the company of others?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for reading! This is another longer chapter and I hope you are all enjoying it. As per usual if you have any questions or comments feel free to leave a comment and I'll try my best to reply to you as quickly as I can! It means so much to me seeing you guys enjoying my work I hope I can continue to give you guys content you like!

It’s more welcoming inside than one would expect. It’s not hospital like with white walls and floors, instead the walls of the reception area are painted a warm tan and there are colorful paintings hung up. I follow behind my parents being led by a short man. He’s explaining to my parents what the next four weeks will look like for me but I’m too lost in my thoughts to pay much attention. He’s giving us a quick tour of the facility and before I know it we’re standing in front of an empty bed room.

“This will be your room.” The short man says to me, his grey eyes piercing. “Why don’t you put your stuff down and say your goodbyes to your parents?” It’s phrased as a question but the tone of his voice says that it’s more of an order than anything. Silently following his directions I toss my bag onto the bed and gently lay down the teddy bear.

Stepping forward I pull my mom into a hug, “I love you mom, I'm gonna get better.” I whisper into the top of her head. I let her go and move to stand in front of my dad, unsure of what to do.

“I’m proud of you Jean.” He says before hesitantly wrapping his arms around me. Though my first instinct is to push away and get out of his grasp, I find myself relaxing into his touch. I linger in my father’s arms for a moment longer before the short man in the doorway urges us to end our goodbyes. I stand in the doorway of my new temporary bedroom and watch them as they fade out of view.

“My name is Levi, I’m one of the care members here so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. My job is to make sure you’re getting all the proper care you need and checking in regularly with your progress during your recovery. Now, since it’s your first day here and it’s already past noon you get a free pass for the day. You don’t have to attend any of the therapy sessions today and if you would prefer you can have your dinner brought to you in your room for tonight. However tomorrow you will be fully expected to attend therapy and eat your meals in the common room with everyone else. On a final note, during the day we have an open door policy. You can stay in your room as much as you like but the door has to remain open. At night during lights out you are free to close the door for privacy or leave it open but you shouldn’t be wandering the halls.” The shorter man doesn’t give me any time to interrupt him with questions. He’s staring at me and I realize he’s waiting for a response.

“O-okay.” I say while processing all of the information he’s thrown at me.

“Alright, dinner is at 6:30, if you want to eat with everyone in the common room just show up, if not let me know and I’ll have it brought to you. On the desk is a rough schedule for what your days will look like but that’s always subject to change.” 

“Thank you.” I say softly and Levi takes it as his cue to leave. The walls of my room are painted a soft blue and there’s white furniture. The blankets on the bed are a light grey color. I make my way to the small desk and read the piece of paper that’s been placed on it.

**_Schedule_ **

**_Meals:_ ** _Breakfast Monday – Friday 7:00 AM Saturday - Sunday 8:00 AM_

_Lunch daily 12:00 PM_

_Dinner daily 6:30 PM_

**_Therapy:_ ** _Group sessions Monday, Wednesday, Friday 9:00 AM_

_Individual sessions Tuesday, Thursday 2:00 PM_

**_Lights out:_ ** _Monday – Friday 9:00 pm Saturday – Sunday 10:00 PM_

_Unscheduled time is free time. Free time may be spent in a bedroom, the common room, the recreational yard, or if available with your therapist for a supplementary individual session._

I place the schedule back down on the desk. It looks like they put more of an emphasis on group therapy than individual, lucky me. I’d rather talk to one person about my problems than everyone. Luckily enough though it appears that the weekends are more laid back without scheduled therapy so that will be nice. I grab my duffle bag off of the bed and open the drawers to the dresser. Unpacking my clothes I tuck them neatly into the dresser realizing that I accidentally packed the sweat pants and tee shirt I borrowed from Marco on Thanksgiving. Once all my clothes are put away, I flop into the bed on my back and hold the teddy bear up above me.

“You really are a big softy aren’t you Marco?” I say out loud to myself. I imagine this is a stuffed animal that he’s had for a long time. The fake fur has been matted and I can see areas where it’s been sewn up from tears. Bringing the bear down to my nose I take in a deep inhale. It smells like him and it’s more comforting to me than it probably should be. I don’t want to go out to the common room to meet everyone quite yet. To pass the hours until dinner I crack open my book and lay in bed reading, trying to push off my desire for a cigarette. 

By the time I look up from my book it’s 5 minutes until 6:30. With a sigh I fold the corner of the page I’m on and set the book down on the top of the dresser. Standing up I flip up the hood of my sweater for added comfort. Making my way out of my room I head to the common room for dinner. Though I’m not all that hungry, in fact I’m more nauseous if anything, I figure I should at least try to eat. Taking my tray of food with a thank you, I find an empty table to sit down at. The food doesn’t look that bad, but I’m still not sure if I’ll be able to bring myself to eat any.

“New kid huh?” A voice calls to me. Looking up in front of me stands a tall girl with dark hair and freckles across her cheeks. Maybe I just have a thing for tall freckled brunettes because I’m finding myself thinking this girl is cute. 

“Uh, yeah I guesso.” I mumble, hoping she’ll go away. No surprise given my luck, but she doesn’t go away. Instead she drops her tray down across from me and plants herself in a chair.

“Name’s Ymir.” She says proudly.

“Jean.” I say turning my head away from her. I’m hoping giving her the cold shoulder will make her leave.

“A Kirstein, huh?” Catching me off guard I turn to meet her eyes. “Don’t look so surprised, you look just like your dad and it’s been in the news that you were in the hospital so everyone assumed you’d be here next.”

“Wait, what do you mean it’s been in the news?” I question. Standing up without a word she walks over to the couches and coffee table in the corner of the room, grabbing a newspaper off the table. Placing the Trost Times paper in front of me I read the front page.

**_Trost Mayor’s Son Rushed to Hospital, Drug Use the_ ** **_Culprit_ ** **_?_ **

_Monday afternoon Jean Kirstein, the oldest son of Trost Mayor_ _Francois_ _Kirstein, was rushed to the hospital after collapsing in downtown Trost. We were unable to take a statement from his doctor or family members about his condition other than he is stable. It is believed that his long time drug use is a leading factor in his hospitalization._

The text continues to go on about all my accomplishments in school and how I was set up to be such a successful person before falling down the wrong path and so on. None of which I really care to read about.

_“_ Jeez, this happened yesterday and it’s already made the news?” I say in disbelief. 

“Just wait there’s more.” Ymir says unfolding the newspaper to reveal the rest of the story.

_At his side for hours during his hospitalization, an unknown man could be seen holding the young Kirstein’s hand and keeping him company. Of course questions have arose as to who this unknown person is to Jean Kirstein._

Beneath the text is a photo taken through the hallway window of my hospital room of Marco sitting in the chair next to my bed holding my hand. To my relief, the angle at which it was taken obscures the view of his face, protecting his privacy at least a little. Stunned, I push the papers away from me.

“Must be tough always having your business be so public, huh?” She says.

“Yeah, it’s bullshit.” I say. My head is now pounding and my hands are shaking due to the lack of nicotine. Going from smoking about a pack a day to nothing sure takes its toll. Ymir doesn’t say anything more to me while she eats her dinner. I pick at my plate a little but I can’t bring myself to eat much. After dinner I make my way back to my room but I get stopped dead in my tracks when I see him.

“C-coach?” the words come out of my mouth after seeing the tall blonde walking towards me.

“Jean, I heard you were here but I wasn’t sure I would believe it until I saw you.” He says.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“You know coaching is only my side gig, I’m a full time therapist, remember?” He says with a smile. It’s true, I forgot. Coach Smith may be an amazing volleyball coach but he only picked up coaching as a side job because he loves it. I knew he was a therapist I just didn’t think he was a therapist at the rehab center.

“Right... I forgot. I’m sorry.” I say while stuffing my shaking hands into my hoodie pocket.

“How much have you been smoking in a day?” He asks, taking another step closer to me having recognized the signs of nicotine withdrawal.

“Just under a pack a day.” I say. I feel so... Guilty admitting my horrible habits to my coach. 

“Come on, let’s get you a patch.” putting a hand on my shoulder he guides me down the hall and into a room that looks sort of like a doctor’s office. Levi appears around the corner.

“Levi can we get him a nicotine patch?” My former coach says.

“Yeah, how much are you smoking a day?” He directs his question at me.

“About a pack a day.” I say with my voice trailing off at the end. I hate talking about the extent of my shitty habits.

“Alright, we’ll start you off on a 21 mg patch and then wean you off of it with lower dose patches. These are 24 hours so after dinner every day I expect you here to get your new patch.” Levi says. He walks behind the counter and through a locked door into what I assume is where they store different medications. Coming back out he instructs me to take an arm out of my hoodie so he can place the patch on my upper arm. Once it’s placed, I slide my arm back into my hoodie and thank him. 

Parting ways from the two, I go back to my room. It’s a little after 7:30 meaning it’s lights out in about an hour and half. Stripping out of my jeans I slide on a pair of sweatpants and remove my Titans sweater in favor of the white shirt under it. Turning off the overhead light I climb into my new bed and let the light from the always illuminate my room. Pulling the bear to my chest I squeeze it tight and take a deep breath just like Marco told me to do when I’m feeling overwhelmed.

 

* * *

 

“Rise and shine Kirstein!” I awake to her voice yelling from the doorway, “Time for breakfast.” Rolling onto my back I push myself onto my elbows. Catching my eyes for a moment Ymir then turns and walks away. I debate changing into actual clothes but ultimately deciding it’s not worth the effort. Running a hand through my hair to try and tame it a little bit I walk out of my room and head to the common room.

I take my tray of pancakes and seat myself at an empty table. It doesn’t take long for Ymir to appear across from me. “Why are you trying to be so buddy buddy with me?” I ask annoyed.

“Because everyone else here sucks and you look like you could use a friend. Besides, rehab is hard, why make it harder by isolating yourself?” She says.

“Guess you have a point.” I say defeated, stuffing pancakes in my mouth.

“I’m also probably the only person here that wont pester you about your sob story. Mostly because I don’t care that much. Everyone’s got their reasons for being here and it should be up to them to share, not to have people drag it out of them.” She says. Even though she just kind of decided I’m now her friend, I don’t mind too much. She seems like the kind of person that will just tell it to you how it is. It also appears she’s not a huge conversationalist, which is fine by me. Enjoying the silent company, we finish eating our breakfast before gathering with everyone for group. Something I’m definitely not looking forward to.

Seated in a circle of chairs I look around me. There’s an empty chair to my left and Ymir is in the chair after that. Next to her is a girl with shoulder length black hair styled into pigtails. To her left is a blonde haired boy. Finally to my right completing the circle is a boy with a stern face and bark brown hair. Coach Smith takes up the empty chair next to me.

“Good morning everyone.” He says cheerfully, followed by a chorus of everyone else saying good morning back. “As you may have noticed we have a new member joining us. Would you like to introduce yourself?” He says turning his gaze to me. Pulling my feet up onto the chair I wrap my arms loosely around my knees trying to get more comfortable in this awkward situation.

“Not really.” I respond.

“That’s alright, do you mind if I introduce you then?”

“Go for it.” My voice is monotone and quiet.

“This is Jean, he’ll be here with us for the next few weeks. I expect all of you to welcome him and make him feel comfortable during his stay.” Coach says.

“What are you in here for, Jean?” The blonde boy asks. Wide eyed, I'm not sure how to respond as his question caught me off guard.

“Lay off Thomas. If he didn’t even want to introduce himself what makes you think he wants to tell you why he’s in here?” Ymir interjects. I toss her a grateful look for rescuing me.

“Now, now guys. It’s perfectly okay to be curious about everyone else here but let’s remember to respect everyone’s boundaries. Jean will share with us when he's ready. Would anyone like to share with us how you feel your progress is going?” Coach says.

“I-I would.” The black haired girl says. “I think I’m doing better. I know it’s not much but I managed to eat a full pancake this morning and not feel bad about it. I still haven’t been able to go down to a lower strength nicotine patch yet even though I should have been able to last week. But I still think it’s good that I’m eating more and not feeling so bad about it.” I piece together that she’s probably got some kind of eating disorder and a nicotine addiction, maybe something else too.

“That’s great Mina! Small steps are still steps. There’s no time frame for recovery so I don’t want you to focus too much on when you think you should be hitting mile stones.” Coach says and I can see an embarrassed blush creep onto the girl’s, who’s name I now know is Mina, cheeks. Everyone around me in the circle gives her some sort of congratulations.

“Can I go next Erwin?” The brown haired boy asks.

“Of course Samuel.” Says coach. I guess the thing here is to just call everyone, even staff, by their first names.

“I’m having a hard time. I was doing pretty good for a while but now it feels like I'm stuck. Like I'm not as bad as I used to be but I’m not improving anymore. I started last week on antidepressants and it’s really hard for me to not want to abuse them. I’m thankful I have to get them from Levi everyday because I don’t trust myself to not misuse them if it were all up to me.” He says while looking down into his lap. It seems like Samuel struggles with pill abuse.

“Plateauing is perfectly natural during recovery Samuel. However I think you’ve come further than you think you have. Does anyone know why I think that?” Coach addresses the group.

“Because he’s realized what he can and can’t handle on his own?” Thomas questions.

“Exactly. The fact that you realize you aren’t yet ready to be in charge of your own medications is a step in the right direction. It shows that you are learning and setting boundaries for yourself that will help in your recovery.” Once again everyone gives Samuel congratulations just like they did Mina. I guess that’s what we’re supposed to do after someone shares. “Thomas would you like to share anything?”

“I don’t think I’ve got much to share. I don’t think a lot has changed for me recently. I still am going through hard cravings and I’m struggling to sleep at night because all I want to do is pour a drink or do a line.” He says. Looks like it’s alcohol and hard drugs for him.

“That’s okay, Thomas. Progress doesn’t happen over night so all you can do is keep trying to improve.” Another round of praise and coach is asking Ymir if she has anything to say.

“Same old, same old, nothing new here. I’m just hoping Krista will be able to come see me on our anniversary. She said she’ll be able to but knowing her parents it’s hit or miss if it will actually happen.” Everyone gives her congrats for sharing and Mina says she hopes Krista will be able to visit. Now everyone’s eyes are on me.

“Are you feeling up to sharing?” Erwin’s eyes fall on me. I feel like I have to say something seeing as everyone else shared.

“I don’t want to be here, but I’m doing it for someone else.” I’m not even sure what I mean by that but the words come flowing out.

“Sometimes if you can’t do something for yourself you have to find a way to do it for others and that can be a very noble act, Jean.” With a smile coach turns back to address the rest of the group. I don’t pay much attention to what’s being said the rest of the session. Everyone is just talking about their feelings and the like. Everyone but Ymir, she seems to be just as quiet as I am the rest of the time.

As soon as the session ends and Erwin leaves the room it feels like I’ve been ambushed. Mina, Samuel, and Thomas are throwing question after question at me not even giving me time to breathe much less answer them if I wanted to.

“Wow your dad is the mayor how cool is that?”

“How does someone like you end up here?”

“What’s your poison?”

“You’re cute are you single?”

Through the bombard of questions I shoot Ymir a look begging for her help. A sly smirk slides across her face as she crosses the room and throws an arm around my shoulder dragging me away from the others. “I told Kirstein here that I would show him around.” She says with our backs to the others while guiding me away.

“Thanks Ymir.” I say with a sigh of relief.

“I told you they were like Piranhas. They mean well but that shit is a bit much sometimes.” she says before stopping at a door to a bedroom. “This is my room. Two away from yours if you need anything.” Dropping her arm from around my shoulders she walks into her room and plops onto the bed. I take it as my cue to leave and I walk to my own room.

I spend most of the day in my room. I come out for lunch and share my meal silently with Ymir like I have the previous meals. Afterwards I head back to my room and read until dinner. As per usual Ymir is across from me nose deep in the Trost Times. I enjoy her company. With her there’s no expectations. She doesn’t ask me about my addiction or recovery or anything, none of that every gets brought up. We can just sit silently and enjoy each others company without worry. It was kind of annoying at first but I prefer her company than sitting all alone. After our meal we play a quiet game of Go Fish between the two of us before I call it quits after getting my ass kicked a few times and head to bed. I didn’t do much today but I’m still exhausted. I’m itching for a high and a cigarette because the patch on my arm feels like it’s doing nothing to lessen the craving for nicotine. Holding Marco’s bear I close my eyes and welcome sleep.

 

* * *

 

It’s Thursday meaning I have my first individual therapy session. I can’t say that I’m really looking forward to it but I prefer that over group. I’ve spent most of today in my room only coming out for a shower and meals. Tossing on my plain black hoodie I stuff my hands in my pockets and make my way to Erwin’s office. It’s weird having my former coach be my therapist but at the same time it’s comforting. He already knows me and I trust him so there’s none of that awkwardness of telling your whole life story to a complete stranger. I gently knock on the door and wait for a reply. 

“Come in.” His voice calls from beyond the door. I open the heavy wooden door and step into his office. It’s a welcoming room. The walls are lined with bookshelves with all kinds of books on them. I spot a lot of academic books as well as some literary classics. There's the typical set up of couches and chairs you usually find in a therapist's office accompanied by a small coffee table with little knick knacks resting on top of it. On the far side of the room across from the door is a large window which Erwin has positioned himself in front of. Without saying a word I flop onto the long couch. 

“How are you feeling today Jean?” He asks making his way towards me. 

“Been better.” I say while adjusting to get comfortable. 

“When is the last time you used any drugs?” 

“Today is five days clean of heroine and three days with no cigarettes.” I try to say proudly. 

“That’s good. How is sobriety treating you?”

“Like shit.” I scoff. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean I feel like shit coach. My head always hurts, my hands won’t stop shaking, everything aggravates me, and all I want to do is stab a needle in my arm.” I say bluntly, with probably a little more attitude in my voice than the question warrants. 

“If you had the opportunity to get high right now, would you?” He asks. I take a moment to think about it before I answer. I want to say no confidently, but I know that’s not the answer. 

“Yes. I-I think I would. I want to be able to stop but I’d rather take the easy way out and end the hell that is drug cravings. It’s easier that way.” I say while picking at my fingernails trying to avoid eye contact.

“Jean,” I look up at him when he calls my name, “what made you decide to come to rehab?”

“I-I don’t know coach. I’ve just been fighting it for so long and... And I don’t know if I can do it on my own anymore.” I feel tears building in my eyes and a familiar lump growing in my throat. “Just laying in that hospital bed with everyone around me, it was like a wake up call you know?” he nods his head.

“What exactly about your admittance to the hospital was a wake up call, Jean? Was it seeing the extent of your condition? Or was it seeing how much the people in your life care for you and want you to get better?” And there it is, the question that opens the flood gates. The images of my dad’s worry filled eyes, my mom’s tears, Connie and Sasha’s concern, and Marco’s tear streaked fearful face flood my mind. Burying my face in my hands I let out soft whimpers. “Here you go.” I look up momentarily to see him handing me a box of tissues.

“T-thank you.” I manage.

“During group yesterday you said you don’t want to be here but you’re here for someone else. When things get rough and you find yourself struggling with recovery, I want you to think about that person, whoever it may be. Think about what it is that made you decide to get help in the first place. Let that person be your rock, Jean. It’s okay to not be able to do things on your own, especially something as difficult as beating drug addiction.” He says. We spend a lot of time just sitting there quietly, Erwin taking notes and me softly crying into my hands. I didn’t plan on this. I didn’t plan on opening up and saying anything, let alone crying. Damn therapists and their way of making you spill.

“What do you say we call it a day, Jean?” His voice comes calmly. Wiping the last of the tears from my eyes I look up at him. 

“Y-yeah that’d be good.” I say softly, not even sure if he can hear me. Parting ways I head to my bedroom. I ignore Mina and the other boys calling me over to join them in whatever card game they’re playing in the common room instead favoring curling up in bed. With the teddy bear to my chest it doesn’t take long for me to start crying again. I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can’t stop. I think maybe it’s just setting in that I’m actually in rehab and I don’t have a choice now but to sober up. I can’t just quit and leave this time. I can’t disappoint him like I disappointed everyone else before. 

 

* * *

 

I’ve finished my first week of rehab. It’s slowly getting easier but with every step forward I feel like I’m being shoved ten steps back. Some days aren’t so bad and I’ll spend my time out of my room bantering with Ymir or playing cards with the others, and then there are days where I only leave the comfort of my bed for meals or therapy and only because I have to. Today is one of those days, but I’m branching out a little. Instead of pouting in my room, I’m pouting on the couch of the common room. Curled up on two of the three cushions I’m using the bear as a pillow and attempting to take a nap.

“What’s with the bear?” Ymir’s voice makes my eyes snap open as she drops down onto the empty cushion by my feet.

“It was a gift, cheesy I know.” I say.

“Ah, girlfriend?”

“No, no girlfriend.” I respond through a laugh.

“Boyfriend then.” She states.

“What!? No, he - he's not my boyfriend.” She just rolls her eyes at me.

“Sure, whatever you say Kirstein.” Stretching out I place my feet in her lap and roll onto my back adjusting my bear pillow.

“What do you mean by that?” I question.

“A year ago my girlfriend gave me a stuffed rabbit when I was going through some shit. At the time we were just friends. Before I knew it, we were dating and our one year is this week. On Christmas actually. But that’s beside the point. It’s not just a stuffed animal given as a comfort item it’s that person saying ‘Hey I care about you and I want you to know I’m not leaving you’. It’s pretty much the easiest way to ask someone to go out with you. So if you’re saying he’s not your boyfriend now, then I’m not going to be surprised if he is once you’re out of here.” She says as she rests her hands on my legs in her lap. I let her words sink in.

“You think so?” I ask.

“Definitely. How oblivious are you Jean?” She jokes with that sly grin on her face again.

“Apparently pretty damn oblivious.” I say through laughter. We sit on the couch like this for a while longer before enjoying our dinner in each other’s company. After dinner we part ways and go to our respective rooms. Levi delivered a letter to Ymir from her girlfriend during dinner so I assume she’s eager to see what it says. Now that my first week is over, I’ll be able to start getting mail and having visitors on weekends.

Settling down in bed I grab my book and start reading. I’ve read this book a hundred times but it never gets old. I mean, it’s a classic for a reason. My attention is quickly drawn away from my book when I hear a yell of anger from down the hall. Without skipping a beat, I jump up and run towards the sound. Standing in her doorway I see Ymir in a fit of rage tossing the pillows and blankets off her bed and spewing profanities.

“Jean step back, we’ll handle this.” Levi’s voice comes from behind me. Ignoring him I step into her room.

“Ymir what’s going on?” I ask in a calm voice hoping maybe the calmness will rub off on her.

“Fuck off Kirstein!” She bites.

“No.” I say sternly, taking another step to her. Turning to face me tears are flooding her cheeks and she falls down to her knees. I follow suit and sit on the ground in front of her. “What’s going on?” I ask again. Looking up at me she finds her words.

“Her p-parents... They won’t l-let her see m-me...” She starts crying harder and she moves to place her head in my lap. I drop my hands down onto her shaking shoulders and try my best to comfort my new friend. It always hurts seeing someone that’s usually so outwardly stoic break down like this. I let her cry into my lap until she calms down enough. Sitting up she wipes the water from her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” She says before taking in a deep breath and standing up.

“Hey it’s alright, it happens Ymir.” I say as I too take to my feet. 

“Thank you, Jean. You’re a good kid.” 

“Don’t thank me for being a good friend.” I can tell she wants to be left alone so I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze and tell her goodnight. Pushing past Levi and Erwin outside her door I go back to my room and let them sort out whatever it is they need with her. It may not be much, but sometimes a person just needs someone to sit there while they let it all out.


	10. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with the parents can mean the difference between taking steps of freedom or being confined to rehab longer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading! It truly means a lot to me and I hope you are all enjoying this fic! As always if you have any questions or comments feel free to leave a comment and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can!

It’s Christmas day, and even though it’s a week day instead of a weekend we’re allowed visitors today.  I haven’t heard from anyone saying they’re going to visit me, not even my family. My hopes aren’t too high for seeing anyone today. But that’s fine, I’ll just plan on hanging out with Ymir while everyone else is seeing their friends and family. Since her break down Ymir and I have become better friends. We still will enjoy each others company in silence, but we’ve also been talking and opening up to each other more. I found out early on why everyone is in rehab. Mina is here because of an addiction to your typical party drugs and an eating disorder. Thomas is here for an alcohol and cocaine addiction. Samuel is here for pill abuse. But until yesterday I didn’t know why Ymir was here, she never said anything and I never asked.

We were sitting in the common room just talking about anything and everything when she decided to tell me why she’s in rehab. Just like most other high school and college students, she liked to party. She never thought much of it, everyone does it, right? It wasn’t until her girlfriend pointed out that she was no longer just drinking at parties or when hanging out with friends. It became a nightly thing she would do with dinner. Then it became everyday once she got back to her apartment from class. Gradually she was drinking more and more but she never thought anything of it. Eventually she was dependent on the alcohol. Her girlfriend’s parents made it very clear they no longer like Ymir around their daughter and would do everything to keep Krista away from her. In order to try and salvage her relationship with Krista’s parents she decided to check herself into rehab.

That same night I told her about my addiction. How it started out with study drugs to survive my jam packed schedule and quickly turned into recreational use to escape from my everyday life. She’s the first person other than Connie I've talked to about my addiction in such depth.  The stuff I told her I haven’t talked about with even Hanji or Erwin. I figured if she could tell me all about her issues it’s safe to tell her mine. 

“Jean, you have a visitor in the common room” Levi says while standing in my doorway. 

“Really? I didn’t think anyone was coming today.” I say while standing up. I straighten out my clothes and run my hand through my hair trying to smooth it out. It’s getting a bit long now, it’s time for me to get a hair cut. Making my way to the common room I hear the others talking.

“Who’s he? He’s pretty cute.”

“Ymir is that like your brother or something?”

“Yeah you two do look alike with the freckles and all.”

Hearing their comments I know exactly who’s come to see me. Picking up my pace I walk into the common room. Being greeted immediately by his warm smile I can’t help but let a smile of my own grow on my face.

“Hey Marco.” I say as he stands up from the couch and pulls me into a hug. I relax in his arms and take in a deep breath with my nose buried in his scarf.

“Hey Jean, I thought you could use come company today.” Pulling away we both sit down on the couch.

“What about your family, shouldn’t you be spending Christmas with them?” I ask shyly.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s okay. As long as I’m home by dinner it’s not a problem. Besides, I’d rather visit you than have Mari pass off all her chores onto me with whatever her excuse is.” He says with a chuckle. I can see the other’s keep looking over at us and Ymir gives me a wink before averting her gaze.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.” I say while raising a nervous hand to the back of my neck.

“Jean,” his hand finding a place on my knee makes me look up at him, “I wont get in trouble. It was my parents idea for me to visit you today after all.”

“R-really? They know I’m in here and still don’t mind you seeing me?”

“They like you Jean. They know you’re a good kid that’s just struggling. They wouldn’t hold that against you.” He says with a smile.

“Do... Do you know if my parents plan on visiting at all?” I ask with my voice trailing off at the end.

“I’m not sure. I saw on the news this morning your parents were doing some charity things, but I’m sure they’ll come.” He tries to give me a reassuring smile but he knows as well as I do that they probably won’t come.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” I try to not sound too disappointed.

“You look really good Jean. How are you feeling?”

“Not terrible but I’ve definitely been better. I’m just ready to get out of here honestly.” I say. We spend more time on the couch catching up on everything I’ve missed in the two weeks I’ve been in rehab. Honestly half of what’s being said just goes in one ear and out the other because I’m just too stuck on the fact that Marco actually came to visit me. And that his hand is still on my knee. And that everyone, especially Ymir, keeps staring at us. I didn’t think I would miss talking to him so much. It wasn’t until I saw him sitting on the couch that it hit me how much time I’ve been spending with him before rehab. I never realized how much his smile and laugh could light up the room until now.

“Who’s this, Kirstein?” Ymir says with a playful punch to the shoulder.

“Marco, he’s my friend.” I say trying to force my cheeks to not blush. She introduces herself to him and then takes a seat on the floor leaning against the couch. It doesn’t take long for the others to join and introduce themselves as well. In no time Thomas is pulling out the deck of cards and we’re diving head first into a game of Rummy. Having never played before, I’m having to teach Marco all the rules as we go, which naturally means I'm beating him the whole time because I know all of his cards. Throughout our game I’m trying to not let his subtle touches phase me. It starts out with him moving closer to me on the couch letting our knees touch, then the occasional shoulder bump, and now whenever it’s not his turn his right hand falls gently onto my left knee. The other’s notice all of this but they thankfully don’t say anything and I’m glad Ymir hasn’t pointed out my obviously red cheeks. We get through about two laughter and smile filled games of Rummy before we are interrupted by Levi’s voice.

“Dinner time guys.” While complaining, everyone throws their cards into a pile in the center of the coffee table and head to get their dinner trays leaving just Marco and I.

“I guess I should be heading home for dinner now too.” Marco says sheepishly.

“Yeah, I guess so.” There’s and edge of disappointment in my voice. Wrapping his arms around me he pulls me into another hug and I once again melt into his touch.

“It was really good seeing you Jean. I’ll try to visit more. You’re doing great and I’m proud of you.” He says into the top of my head while one hand rubs my back and the other gently toys with my hair. Nuzzling my face deeper in his scarf I try to will away the tears building in my eyes. Being in here sure has turned me into quite the cry baby. Parting ways I watch him leave the common room as I grab my tray of food and take a seat across from Ymir.

“And you say he’s not your boyfriend.” She says through a laugh.

“Shut up...”

 

* * *

 

I wake up in a surprisingly good mood today. I’m not sure if spending time with Marco yesterday has anything to do with it but it feels nice to wake up in a good mood for once. I’m making my way to Erwin’s office for my afternoon session with him. So far therapy with him has been pretty good, but also we haven’t really gone in deep with any topics. Despite my good mood, I feel a nagging in the back of my mind that all of that is going to change soon.

“Good afternoon Jean, how are you today?” He asks as I walk into his office and take a seat on the couch.

“Pretty good, actually.” There’s a surprising upbeat tone to my voice. We talk about the usual stuff like how I’m feeling about my progress, how I’m dealing with cravings, my thoughts on possibly leaving here in two weeks, all the typical stuff. It’s all going fairly well up until he asks me about something I don’t really want to talk about.

“Jean, I’d like for you to tell me about when your parents found out about your drugs use.” He says. This is a night that I’ve pushed memories of so far down that I don’t want to dig them up.

“Do I have to?” I ask slightly annoyed.

“As always you don’t have to do anything, but I do feel like it would be very beneficial to your recovery. We haven’t done a lot of in depth discussions about your drug use and I figured this would be a good starting point.” He says calmly. As much as I don’t want to talk about it I know he’s right. There’s a lot of repressed emotions from that night that I always knew I would have to deal with eventually. Taking in a deep breath I start.

“It was shortly after graduation, maybe a month or two I’m not sure. My dad was having this big business party thing I don’t really remember exactly what it was. I just remember lots of political people in suits and dresses. Naturally Gabriel and I had to be present and all dressed up too so I was in slacks and a button down trying to portray myself as the mayor’s perfect son to all of his business partners and rivals. I always hated those stupid gatherings he had for that stuff.

“At this point I had been using heroin for a while now, I started shortly after graduation but no one knew yet. Not even Connie knew. I had used that morning but by the time everyone had gathered at our house I was craving hard again. I was trying to push it off the best I could because, well, I had to stand there and look nice for photographs for the front page with my family.” I pause for a second with a sigh to gather my thoughts to continue.

“Eventually I had enough and I couldn’t push off my cravings any longer. I already had a filled syringe in my pants pocket because my brother walked into my room while I was getting ready and I was preparing for taking another dose. To hide it from him I just shoved it in my pocket. I went into the bathroom around the corner from the living room and locked the door. I sat on the ground and stuck the needle in my arm.” Taking in a wavering breath I look up at Erwin who is sympathetically listening to me before averting my eyes back down to my lap.

“Everything after that is pretty blurry. I remember people banging on the door and the door handle jiggling as someone was trying to get in but I couldn’t move, hell I could barely keep my eyes open. I remember my mom’s scream when they eventually got the door open and she saw me laying there, drifting in and out of consciousness with a needle in my arm. My dad was shaking me and yelling but I don’t remember anything that he said. The next thing I remember clearly is waking up in the hospital after detoxing.” Wiping tears from my eyes I continue, “He didn’t even ask how I felt or if I was okay, he just started yelling at me. What kind of dad immediately starts scolding their son for ruining the family’s image after something like that happens? He was more concerned about how my overdose on heroin would look on his career than how it effects my life.” I don’t try holding back anymore and I start crying freely. Erwin is writing things down in his notebook and pauses as if he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“Jean, are you glad that your parents found you that night?” He asks in a calm voice.

“Y-yes and no.” I reply through whimpers.

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“Yes because if they didn’t I wouldn’t be alive right now. B-but no because my life has been nothing but hell since that night.” Grabbing a tissue from off the table I blow my nose.

“Do you sometimes wish no one noticed you disappeared from the party?”

“Y-yeah...” I say softly.

“Why do you think that Jean?”

“Because if no one noticed I was gone then no one would have found me and I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be dealing with this shitty addiction and I wouldn’t have spent the past year couch surfing because my parents don’t want me. I wouldn’t be living this shit life.” Even though my whimpers have subsided there are still rivers of warm tears flowing from my eyes.

“Jean,” he adjusts in his seat and I lift my head to make eye contact, “would you say you think you’re depressed?” It seems like a no brainer to me, anyone in my situation would be at least a little depressed, right?

“Yeah.” I say returning my gaze to the ground.

“Is this depression part of the reason you use drugs?” He asks and I nod my head yes. “If you want to, we can talk about the possibilities of trying antidepressants at some point. I don’t want to get into it right now, so I want you to just sit on the idea of it for now.” Nodding my head again I part my lips to speak.

“Coach I’ve been depressed for years. I just... I just used to be able to handle it better.” I say.

“What did you used to do to cope with how you were feeling?”

“Volleyball. Extra practicing or working out, I was always focused on volleyball and getting better. But that eventually wasn’t enough I guess.” I say defeatedly. We talk for the rest of the session about positive coping strategies. He suggests I try picking up some old habits again like regularly working out as it’s not only a positive way to deal with my stress but it’ll also keep me physically healthy as I work on improving my mental health. He tells me I should ask Samuel to show me where the gym is since he apparently goes there everyday to help him deal with stress himself.

The rest of my day is pretty uneventful. After dinner I don’t hang around in the common room for too long and instead favor going to my room early. Taking what coach said to heart, I test myself with some baseline work outs just to see how much I can still do. My stomach muscles cramp and give up after fifteen sit ups and my arms give in after eight pushups. I really have gotten weaker than I thought this past year. With this knowledge, I climb into bed and curl up for sleep, teddy bear in hand.

The next week goes by with ease. I started taking antidepressants and they seem to be helping so far. I’m participating more in group therapy and Erwin and I have made more progress in our individual sessions. Every morning and every night Samuel and I meet in the gym to work out together and I can already feel the progress. It doesn’t take long to get back into the swing of things and slowly but surely I’m get back to how I used to be physically. I’m taking extra care now that I have one week left to prove to everyone that I’m well enough to leave this place. I think I’m also trying to convince  _myself_  that I’m well enough to leave.

 

* * *

 

The day has finally come. Today my parents are coming in to have a meeting with me, Erwin, and Levi about the possibility of me going home today. Erwin and I have talked about it in our individual sessions and he said he thinks I’ll be ready to go home and I sure hope he’s right. Appearing in my doorway, Levi gestures for me to follow.

“Your parents are here, we’re meeting in Erwin’s office.” He says while leading the way.

“This is the first time I’m seeing them in a month, they never visited.” The words come out and I’m not even sure why I’m saying it.

Stopping and turning to face me the shorter man says, “I know, and that’s tough. But they had their reasons, they told Erwin and I that they thought your recovery would go smoother if they distanced themselves during this time. Whether that actually helped or not, who knows. What matters now is that they’re here and will hopefully agree that you’re ready to go home today.” I give him a nod and follow him the rest of the way to Erwin’s office.

“Jean! Oh, my boy you look so good!” My mom says while cupping by face in her hands.

“Hey son.” My dad gives me a big smile and a hardy clap on the shoulder. The three of us sit on the long couch, my mom in between my dad and I. Across from us Erwin and Levi have taken a seat in chairs.

“How are you feeling today, Jean?” Erwin asks.

“Pretty good coach.” I say with a smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kirsten, during Jean’s time here I think he has made tremendous progress. He’s recognized his strengths and weaknesses and together we have been able to work through a lot of issues. On his own he’s come up with positive coping strategies and has become more comfortable with seeking support from others when he’s feeling overwhelmed.” Giving me a smile Erwin then turns to Levi.

“Medically speaking he has also taken positive steps. Though he is still using the nicotine patches he is now on a low dose and we are hopeful that soon he’ll be able to abandon the patches all together. As you were made aware, about two weeks ago Jean started taking antidepressants. Though it is still early we are seeing an overall improvement in his mood and wellbeing. As for his heroin addiction, all traces have made their way out of his system and he’s no longer going through any withdrawal symptoms. Now this doesn’t mean that he isn’t getting cravings but it does mean that it’s become easier for him to resist those cravings.” Levi says, not giving my parents any time to interrupt with questions just as he spoke to me on my first day.

“So what is your opinion on him leaving rehab today?” My dad asks.

“After a long discussion, Levi and I have come to the conclusion that we think Jean is fit for release. However, we do have some conditions and suggestions.” Erwin answers.

Overwhelmed with joy my mom chimes in, “Whatever it is we can do it if it means bringing him home.” It feels weird sitting here during this, it’s like they’re talking about me as if I'm not even in the room.

“Upon him leaving, we would like to continue outpatient treatment with him. That would mean he is still to come twice a week for therapy sessions and Levi will remain a care provider for him seeing over him medically. As for a strong suggestion, we think for the time being it would be best for one of you to be in charge of his medication as he doesn’t yet feel completely comfortable being in charge of it himself.” Erwin says before turning to me, “Now Jean, we’ve been discussing the possibility of this for the last week and now it’s time to hear how you feel. Do you feel like you’re ready to leave here?”

“Yes coach. I think I’m ready.” I say with a smile. My parents then proceed to sign whatever papers Erwin and Levi place in front of them and I head to my room to pack my bag.

“Leaving me, huh?” I hear Ymir’s voice from behind me as I finish stuffing my clothes into the duffle bag.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” I say with a chuckle.

“In that case, tell your boyfriend I say hi and come visit me sometime.” With her sly grin she turns and walks away. I guess she’s not one for sentimental goodbyes and that makes this a bit easier. Slinging my bag over my shoulder and grabbing Marco’s teddy bear I meet my parents in the front lobby. Behind me, Levi and Erwin stand giving me smiles and looks of approval to see me off. Without saying a word I follow my parents out of the front doors of Trost Rehab Center.

The cold air outside nips at my exposed skin. Taking in a deep breath I breathe a sigh of relief at my first steps of freedom. I follow my parents down the stairs towards the car. I only get about halfway down before I see him waiting for me at the edge of the sidewalk. I pause for a moment before virtually running down the stairs and past my parents. Once at the bottom of the steps I drop my bag and the teddy bear and practically throw myself in his arms.

Squeezing me tight he says, “I’m glad you’re doing better.” Pulling away slightly he presses his forehead to mine and looks me in the eye with a wide smile on his face. “You’re looking really good Jean.”

I’m hyper aware of his hands around my waist and how close he is to me. I can feel my face starting to burn with a red blush. With my arms around his neck I move one hand to his hair and letting my eyes fall shut, I close the gap between us and gently press my lips to his. Moving one hand to the small of my back, Marco pulls me closer. Kissing me back I swear I can feel the heat of a blush radiating off of his cheeks. 

“Get a room!” I hear the familiar voice of Connie yelling to us. Breaking apart, Marco’s face is flushed with red and he’s sporting a huge smile. 

“Screw off!” I yell back through laughter. Leaning against his Jeep Connie has his arms around Sasha who’s shivering in the cold. My parents have made their way to the car and are waiting for me to join. 

“Come on, let’s you you home.” Picking up my bag and his teddy bear for me we walk to my parents car. He opens the door and slides my bag into the seat waiting for me to follow. “We’ll meet you at your house.” He ends with a smile before closing the door. 

I can practically feel the awkwardness in the car. I know my mom is on the edge of her seating wanting to turn around and ask me about Marco but I also know my dad wants nothing to do with that. My mom’s always been supportive of me when I came out to her but my dad hasn’t been the same story. It’s not that he’s actively against me being bisexual, he just chooses to ignore it and doesn’t want to see me with boys. I know they both saw that kiss and my mom is happy and excited about it while my dad is probably disgusted and uncomfortable. I don’t say anything during the ride home and instead chose to think back to my kiss with Marco.

It’s a short drive from the rehab center to my house. Connie, Sasha, and Marco pull into the driveway right behind us. We all follow my dad inside the house and gather in the living room. Patting my back my dad tells me how glad he is that I’m home before leaving for his office room. My mom tells us all that she’s going to make dinner for everyone so she’ll be in the kitchen if we need her. The rest of us get comfy on the couches. 

After spending what feels like forever telling them about what it was like at the rehab center and answering their questions I let a long yawn escape. Laying my head in Marco’s lap I get comfy on the couch and settle in for a nap while Connie and Marco talk about their new unit in class. I gather that it’s a difficult unit for Marco so far so he’ll probably be spending a lot of time studying. From being bored by their school talk Sasha goes to help my mom in the kitchen. Running his hand through my hair as he asks Connie questions about different diseases, I drift off I to my nap. 

* * *

 

“Dinner was great Mrs. Kirsten and Sasha.” Marco says after finishing eating. 

“Please Marco, you can just call me Nadine. I’m glad you enjoyed it, I haven’t made tacos in a long time if Sasha wasn’t here to help me they probably wouldn’t have been so good!” My mom says joyously. 

“I doubt it! You were doing just fine before I came in.” Sasha reassures. Once everyone’s finished their food, Gabriel and I do the dishes. The entire time through dinner my dad didn’t say anything to me or really acknowledge that I was there. I can’t say I’m upset about it, but it also felt strange. 

“Alright guys, I think we’re gonna head out, I’ve got to get Sasha home. I’m glad you’re doin better Jean. Thanks for dinner Mrs. K!” Connie and Sasha bid us all goodbye before leaving. 

“Come on Marco, I wanna show you something.” I say as I turn away from the sink and head upstairs. I don’t look behind me but I can hear him trailing in my footsteps as we climb the stairs to my room. 

“So this is your room, huh?” He says while looking around. There’s not much to it, a bed in the corner with a thick black comforter, an empty desk across from it, and a dresser pushed against the wall. In the far corner is all of my old volleyball stuff. 

“Yeah it’s pretty boring isn’t it?” I chuckle. 

“So what’d you want to show me?” He asks. 

“The bed. You look exhausted. I’m gonna take a shower, and you should take a nap.” I say in a kind of know all voice. 

“A-are you sure Jean?” He asks while his eyes fall to the ground and he nervously twiddles his fingers. I take a step forward and place my hands over his fidgeting fingers. 

“Yeah I’m sure. You look like you’ve barely been sleeping, you need some rest. So I want you to try to take a nap while I shower and if you want when I’m done I can drive you home. Sound like a plan?” I ask with a smirk. He nods in agreement before kicking off his shoes and climbing into my bed. 

After closing the door to the bathroom I strip off my clothes. Looking in the mirror I take a hard look at myself. Everyone is right when they’ve been saying I look good. My cheeks are no longer so hollow and the deep dark circles under my eyes have mostly subsided. I’ve put on some weight this past month too. My ribs are no longer so visible and even though my collar bones are still defined it’s not in an unhealthy way anymore, they’ve always been one of my stand out features on my chest. From my everyday work out sessions I’m starting to rebuild and tone my muscle definition and fill out more. This is the first time in a really long time that I’ve looked at my naked body and actually been okay with what I’m seeing.

I treat myself to a relatively long shower, staying under the flow of water until it runs cold. It feels weird being back in my own house, but at the same time it’s comforting. Turning off the now cold water I drape my towel over my head while I slide on my boxers and sweat pants. I ruffle my hair with the towel in order to dry it off quickly and let the towel fall onto my bare shoulders. I toss my clothes from the day into the hamper before walking back to my bedroom.

Opening the door as quiet as I can I enter the room. I can’t help but smile at the sleeping freckled boy in my bed. I drape my towel over the back of my desk chair and pull open my dresser drawer to get a new shirt, careful to not wake Marco. Despite my efforts to be quiet Marco startles awake with the squeak of the drawer opening. With only the dim light from the hallway illuminating my room I can see his fear stricken face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say as I take a seat on the edge of the bed, “everything’s alright. I’m sorry I woke you I was trying to be quiet.” He takes in a deep breath and I can tell there’s more to his fright than just being startled awake. Laying down next to him on my side he moves to press his head against my bare chest. I gently wrap my arms around him and rest my chin on the top of his head.

“I was having another night mare. And then when I woke up and saw you standing there and I thought... I thought it was him for a second...” His voice is soft as the words come out. Pulling him in closer I kiss the top of his head.

“I’m sorry I scared you Marco. But everything is okay, you’re safe here.” Giving him another gentle kiss in his hair neither of us say anything else. I can tell when he falls asleep because gentle snores escape him and he relaxes completely in my arms.


	11. Footsteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first days out of rehab are good and bad, how will Jean handle it?
> 
> There's some nice Jean and Marco moments and you guys get to see some big bro Jean in action too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I've struggled with this chapter, nothing I was writing seemed right and I'm still not all that happy with this chapter. I guess I'm just not that good at writing non-angsty chapters. I'm struggling to figure out how to tie together my plot points and progress the story so some chapters may be lacking and I apologize for that.  
> As always I want to give a HUGE thank you to everyone reading, bookmarking, and leaving kudos and comments. You guys are the reason I'm still working on this fic and it means a lot to me!

Neither of us moved much during the night. I wake up in the morning to Marco still wrapped close in my arms and his gentle snores on my chest. I can’t help but let a groggy smile grow on my face as I look down on him. He looks so peaceful in his sleep. The worry lines around his eyes have completely disappeared leaving him looking mostly stress free aside from the soft dark circles under his eyes. He probably hasn’t been sleeping well lately and it pains me. He deserves to be able to get a good nights sleep without his past haunting him. I wish there was something I could do to make his nightmares stop, but for now if letting him sleep on my chest in the safety of my arms is what it takes to let him get some much needed rest, I’ll do it every night if I have to.

It’s still early, maybe around seven when I wake up. I want Marco to get as much rest as he can so I pass he time until he wakes by counting the freckles on his face. It’s hard to count all of them because they’re a mix of noticeable dark freckles and faint small ones that are almost not visible. Most of the big darker ones are focused around his nose and the tops of his cheeks but the small faint ones are strewn all over his skin. They trail down his neck and disappear under the collar of his shirt but I can only imagine they continue all over his body. Stirring in my arms he lets out a soft groan before sleepily opening his eyes. 

“Good morning sleepy head,” I say with a smile as I look down at him, “how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good actually,” his voice is husky with the drowsiness of sleep having not worn off yet, “did you sleep at all?”

“I got some.” I didn’t get as much sleep as I would have liked but I'll manage. He slides off of my chest and stretches out in the bed next to me. I flip onto my side to face him and meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“What are you smiling about?” He teases.

“It’s nothing, do you want anything for breakfast? I’ve been told I can pour a mean bowl of cereal.” I say trying to sound cool and hide the fact that I’m a terrible cook. We both fill the room with laughter and Marco turns on his side to face me completely. Smiling and laughing he leans in to give me a quick kiss on my lips.

“Go on a date with me.” He says in a strong voice, most of the sleepiness has faded from his words now.

“A date, huh?” I respond with a smile on my face.

“I want you to go on a real date with me today.”

“So what are we going to do on this date?” I ask teasingly.

He pauses for a moment to think as he rolls onto his back once again. Shyly he says “Well, I didn’t think that far ahead honestly.” He’s pretty cute when he’s flustered. His cheeks turn slightly pink and he lets a nervous smile creep onto his face while he runs a hand through his hair.

“I’ve got some ideas.” I say cheerfully. We lay in bed for a while longer just enjoying each other’s company. I’m mostly just waiting until I hear the sound of my dad leaving for his office before I leave the safety of my bed. I turn over and lay on top of Marco, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his abdomen. Continuing to scroll through his phone with one hand he rests the other in my hair gently toying with it. Nuzzling into the fabric of his green shirt I let out a content sigh. Laying here like this with his hand in my hair and soft hums of songs vibrating through his chest, I can’t help but let the feeling that everything is going to be okay wash over me. 

As I hear the garage door close and my dads car drive down the street I reluctantly pull myself off of Marco and go through my dresser looking for todays outfit. I settle on a plain grey tee shirt and black jeans. Having fallen asleep in his clothes from yesterday Marco slides out of my bed to stand in front of the long mirror on the wall by the door. Running his hands through his messed hair he straightens it out just how he likes it.  After we’re both content with getting ready I lead the way downstairs to where my mom is making breakfast. It’s almost nine now. 

“Good morning ma.” I say while giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Being from France she has always had a soft spot for your typical French greeting. Her face lights up with my greeting and I step to the cabinet to pull out plates and glasses for everyone. Marco has taken up a seat next to Gabriel at the table and is helping him through his pre-calc homework because I have zero idea how to do any of it. I’m surprised my dad let him push off his homework until Sunday morning, typically we were always made to sit down and do homework right after school. I help my mom divide up hash browns and scrambled eggs onto all four of our plates and bring them to the table where we all sit and start eating. 

“Oh Jean your father wanted to tell you this morning that he put the keys to your car on his desk for you.” My mom says before turning to Marco and excitedly asking him all about himself. She asks him what he’s studying in school, what his favorite hobbies are, and what his family is like. Unlike me, he handles the slew of questions better than I did when his parents were questioning me on Thanksgiving. We all finish our breakfast and Marco and I head to the front door to begin our date day. I lean my head into my dad’s office and swipe my car keys off of his desk.

“Oh! Jean boy, don’t forget these!” My mom calls from the kitchen. Walking back in she gestures to my prescription bottle on the counter. With a sigh I fill up a glass of water and carefully drop one of the small blue pills into my hand. Quickly placing it in my mouth I wash it down with the water.

“Okay ma, we’re gonna head out. Love ya.” I say turning away to meet with Marco in the doorway once more.

“S'il vous plaît soyez en sécurité, Jean.” She calls after me. It takes me a moment to process what she’s saying to me as I haven’t even thought about speaking French in almost a year.

“Oui mama, we will.” I reply. We walk down the driveway to my black Jeep Cherokee parked on the street. I’ve always been jealous of Connie’s Jeep as he has the two door CJ model in the perfect gunmetal blue color that I’ve always wanted. My Jeep however is a lot more practical than Connie’s for everyday city driving. We used to always use mine when we were just hanging out around town and we would use his when going out into the country or the mountains. 

Settling into our seats I start up the car. The engine gives a few sputters before starting up. I guess no one has driven it since I did last a year ago. I decide to just sit for a minute and let the engine properly warm up before we leave.

“What did your mom say before we left?” Marco asks.

“She just told us to be safe. If I’m being honest it took me a minute to remember my French.” I respond with an undertone of laughter.

“I didn’t know you spoke French. I know you told me your parents do and your mom is from France but I didn’t really piece together that you probably also speak the language.” 

Putting the car into drive I pull away from the sidewalk and start navigating us towards our destination. “Yeah, growing up we spoke pretty much exclusively in French at home. My dad was born here but his parents were French immigrants so he grew up speaking it and my mom grew up in France so it’s actually her first language. I’m pretty rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve actually spoke French to anyone.”

“I wish I knew a second language. I know a few things in Italian from my grandparents but that’s about it. Neither of my parents learned any other language either.” He says with a smile.

“Italian, huh? I guess that explains a lot.” I say through laughter.

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” He tries to act like he’s offended at my comment.

“Marco, your house has entire walls full of family photos and crosses, your parents are basically the definition of the typical Italian-American parents, and there’s an entire section of your kitchen counters dedicated to your moms hand written cookbooks. Not to mention your mom’s insistence on stuffing me full of food and making me feel welcome, that’s like what it means to be an Italian mom.”

“You’re stereotyping so much, Jean. You’re not wrong, but still.” Laughter fills the car at his response. 

 

* * *

 

Today is the annual Trost Street Fair. Every year downtown people set up stands and booths and sell things from little trinkets to food and pretty much everything in between. I find a parking spot on the side of the road and pull in. Exiting the car I walk over to the passengers side to open the door for Marco. He thanks me with a smile before grabbing hold of my hand.

We weave in and out of the sea of booths stopping to look at what they have to offer. The entire time Marco has a huge grin plastered onto his face and I can feel one of my own lingering. As always there are drug cravings nipping at the back of my mind, more so now that I’m out of rehab, but seeing that smile on his face and feeling his hand laced with mine is keeping me grounded. It’s going to be hard to stay sober now that it’s all up to me.

A few hours are spent at the street fair. I buy us some of the various foods being offered for our lunch and we settle down on the grass to eat. He tells me that back in Jinae they have a similar event in the summer held on the beach. He used to take Mari every year and they would get a set of matching bracelets every time. 

“You and Mari must be pretty close, huh?” I ask in between bites.

“Yeah we’ve always been pretty close, but not so much lately.” He admits.

“Why’s that?”

“She’s mad that we left Jinae. She tries to not show it so she won’t hurt my feelings but I know she's upset that she had to leave everything behind because of me.” He doesn’t look up from his food while he responds.

“I have an idea when we finish eating.” He gives me a hum of acknowledgement and we continue eating.

Once finished we toss our trash into the garbage can and I lead the way back through various booths until I come across the one I’m looking for. Laid out across the dark blue table cloth are hundreds of friendship bracelets in every color imaginable. Marco’s eyes go wide at the realization of what’s in front of him.

“Get you two some new ones, I’m sure it will cheer her up.” I say with a big smile. Marco agrees and we start digging through the masses of bracelets looking for the perfect ones. Marco settles on one that’s mostly dark purple with a repeating light blue stripe for Mari and one that’s the inverse for himself. After thanking the person at the booth we make our way back to my car. It’s getting close to three now and with it still being winter and the tall mountains on the horizon the sun will start to duck down soon leaving it dark. I still have one more thing planned for our date before I take Marco home.

I pull into the familiar spot of where Marco brought me on Thanksgiving. The sun has begun its decent behind the mountain tops leaving a shadow cast over the city. The streets and buildings are illuminated by artificial lights and the major roads are highlighted with the red tail lights of rush hour. Reflected in his deep brown eyes I can see the glow of the city. I never thought we would end up here, like this. That first day when he was just the out of town stranger who needed gas I never once imagined I would fall for him so hard and actually be lucky enough for him to like me back. I mean I’m the dysfunctional son of the town's mayor, why would such a perfect and amazing person like him want me?

Whatever the reason, I’m glad he does. If it weren’t for him walking into my life that day I’m not sure if I would have ever made the decision to try and turn my life around. I reach over and gently grasp his hand and give him a sweet smile. His eyes drift shut slowly as he returns the grin and sinks into my touch. We sit like this for a while, silently watching over the city enjoying each other’s company. In a way it reminds me of my time with Ymir as we spent more time in silence than talking in the month I’ve known her, but it was always a comforting silence.

Drawn out of our silent daze by Marco’s phone buzzing I look at the clock. It’s getting close to six now so with a sigh I determine it’s probably best to get Marco home now so he can have dinner with his family. Reluctantly pulling my hand away from his I start the car and begin the short drive to his house. Keeping my eyes on the road I can feel his gaze on me and I can’t help but feel happy about it. I can tell that I’ve been grinning like an idiot all day long because my face is sore from the strain. I’m not sure when I last smiled so much in one day.

Arriving at his house I turn off the car and once again walk over to the passenger's side to open the door for him. He thanks me and slides his hand around my bicep as I walk him to his front door. Standing in the glowing yellow light on the porch I can’t believe how handsome he is. Once again, I can see the gold flecks floating around in the deep brown of his eyes and the freckles on his face look more like stars swimming in the night sky. The gentle curve of his nose and the sharpness of his jaw are just right and his soft pink lips are so enticing. Moving one hand to the small of his back and the other to caress against his cheek I pull him in for a kiss. 

I practically melt at the sensation of his warm lips on mine. Carefully moving against my own, this is the perfect kiss. It’s our first proper kiss, not one rushed by impulse or nervousness. We both fully give into the moment and I feel his hand pressed against the back of my neck holding me in place. He slowly pulls away to take in a breath. What felt like hours of kissing was only mere seconds and with him no longer pressed against my body I already feel cold and like something is missing.

“Thank you for going out with me, Jean.” He says looking down at me. I never really notice that Marco is taller than me until we are in a situation like this.

“I should be thanking you, I mean you are the one that asked me out after all.” My response is punctuated with a chuckle and instinctively I raise a nervous hand to the back of my neck. Giving me that sweet smile of his he bids me goodnight before heading inside his house. I linger on his porch for a moment longer before returning to the warmth of my jeep.

 

* * *

 

The house is quiet when I enter it. That’s not unusual, it’s a fairly large house and everyone in my family tends to stick to themselves anyway. Continuing down the hallway I walk past my dad’s office and stop to eaves drop on the conversation that is escaping through the crack in the door.

“Nadine I just don’t understand it. Why does he have to always be going around with boys? What ever happened to Annie, she was a sweet girl why can’t he see her again?” I stifle my aggravation for a moment to hear my mom’s response.

“Because Francois, Jean just likes boys more. Sure he also likes girls but clearly he’s more fond of boys. We can’t change that and there’s nothing wrong with it. Besides Jean and Annie only went to prom together because you and her parents coerced them to, they didn’t have feelings for each other.” Knowing my mom supports me even when I’m not around helps to ease my growing anger towards my dad’s words.

“It just doesn’t make sense. First it was that shorter green eyed boy, what was his name, Eren? And now this Marco boy, I don’t know Nadine I just don’t like it. I think he needs to find himself a nice girl and...” I don’t even stay to hear what else my father has to say before I’m climbing the stairs to my room. I let the door slam shut behind me, my passive way of saying ‘I’m home’ to them.

I try to act like my dad’s words don’t bother me but they do. It’s just another reminder that to him I'm still a failure. I can’t do anything right in his eyes. I’ll never be able to live up to his expectations. It’s one thing when he’s pissed off about me being a user because that’s something I can at least try to change. But this? I can’t change who I’m attracted to and that will never be okay to him.

Hot tears are trailing down my cheeks as I bury my face in my pillow and let out an angry yell. If I had heard this conversation even just a few weeks ago I would have been able to brush it off like it was nothing, but I can’t now and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m sober and don’t have drugs running through my system numbing me, or maybe it's all the therapy and antidepressants, but I’ve become quite the emotional cry baby recently and I hate it. I liked it better when I could pretend the words didn’t hurt and then drown out my feelings with getting high or sleeping with Eren. It was a lot easier pushing off my cravings when I had Marco standing right next to me but now that I’m alone and with my dad’s words swirling around my mind all I want to do is go get high and I’m not sure if I can stop myself.

Two gentle knocks at my door startle me out of my rapidly darkening thoughts. “Jean honey, can I come in?” My mom's voice calls from beyond the wooden door, barely audible. I don’t respond and instead bury my face further into my pillow and hope that she’ll go away.

Like always, she doesn’t go away. The door creeks open and she quietly enters the room. My bed shifts under the weight of her sitting herself down in the empty space between me and the edge of the bed. Her hand lightly trails across my back, like she’s testing the waters, unsure of how much I’ll allow for her to touch and comfort me.

“He didn’t mean it, Jean. You know he just doesn’t understand it but he is trying to.” She pauses, most likely waiting for me to say something but I keep my mouth quiet. “If it means anything, I think Marco is a lovely boy and if he makes you happy then I wouldn’t ask for anything else.” I take in a wavering breath before sitting up and turning to face my mom. She looks tired.

“Today was probably the best day I’ve had in a really, really, long time mom. It was great. I got to wake up with Marco in my arms and then take him on a date, and end it with the most amazing kiss. And then I come home to this. Nothing I do is good enough for him, mom. Why can’t me being happy be good enough for him?” The tears and whimpers I thought I’d pushed way have returned. My mom tries to comfort me the best she knows how, but it’s obvious she’s unsure of how to handle me like this. She moves closer and rests her hands on my legs and softly gives me words of reassurance in her perfect French.

Once I calm down I return to my position face down in my pillow. My mom takes that as her cue to leave and I hear the door click shut behind her. This is one of those moments I wish I had that damn teddy bear of Marco’s with me to curl up with. I ignore the calls for dinner and instead decide to go to sleep early.

 

* * *

 

I’ve spent most of today lounging in my room. I’ve been home alone all day as my dad is at work, Gabe is at school, and my mom has been out doing whatever it is suburban moms do during the day. Gabe should be home any minute from school, maybe I’ll try and hang out with him like we used to. He and I used to be kind of close, I guess. We didn’t hate each other but we also weren’t close like Marco and Mari are. To pass the time I open up the YouTube app on my phone and get lost down the rabbit hole of random videos that pop up in my suggestions. 

I must have been lost in YouTube for quite some time because I never heard anyone come home but I can hear my brother laughing in his room with what I’m assuming are some of his friends. A familiar smell drifts into my room and makes me leap to my feet. Walking to Gabe’s room I fling the door open.

“What the  _fuck_  do you think you’re doing?” I ask sternly, seeing Gabe sitting in his room with three of his friends and a lit joint in his hand.

“Woah dude I thought you said your brother would be cool with it?” One of the boys asks. I step forward and give Gabe a smack on the back of his head, harsher than I intended.

“You said what now?” He opens and closes his mouth trying to find the words to say but nothing comes out. “Come on, grab your shit I’m taking you home.” The four of them stand up and start gathering their stuff, one reaches for bag of weed that's sitting in the middle of them. “Your backpacks, not the weed.” I say as I head out of the room and down the stairs. 

The boys follow at a distance behind me, obviously scared by the fact they were caught in the act. Gabe sits in the passenger's seat and his three friends pile into the back. “Who am I taking home first?” I ask eyeing the boys through the rear view mirror. 

“I-I live close by.” One of them says quietly. Backing out of the driveway I follow his directions to his house. He only lives a few streets away so it doesn’t take long to arrive. I can tell he’s nervous about going inside so I turn to face him.

“Just go inside, give your mom or dad or whoever is home a quick hello and go to your room. No one will question it. Got it?” I know I shouldn’t be giving him advice on how to hide the fact that he’s stoned, but he also wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me in the first place. I feel kind of obligated to toss the kid a bone. He gives me a quiet thank you and goes inside. I wait to leave until I see him get inside. 

After dropping off the other two boys I drive Gabe and I to a nearby park and sit in the parking lot. “What the hell’s gotten into you Gabe?” I ask defeatedly.

“What does it matter?” He bites back.

“Gabriel you’re lucky it was me who walked in and caught you guys and not dad. If he saw that your ass would be sitting on the curb right now.”

“What’s the big deal? You and Connie do it.” He says with his head leaning against the window, refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Did it. I did it Gabe I’m not doing that anymore. You shouldn’t be following in my footsteps you should be seeing the shitty choices I make and do the opposite.” My voice is losing its harsher tone and turning to something else. Remorse maybe? It’s my bad choices that have lead to this because my little brother is following in my footsteps.

“Yeah we’ll see how long that lasts. It’s just weed it’s not like I was doing heroin.” His words are sharp and whether or not he intended them to hurt like that, they do.

“So that’s what this is about?” I take a deep breath and focus my vision on the steering wheel in front of me. “I know I’ve been a shitty brother and role model and I’m sorry. I should have been here and not off doing my own selfish stuff. I get that you’re pissed off at me, but this isn’t the way to handle it.”

“You left me alone with them, Jean. Doing drugs was more important to you than me. Because of that I’ve had to deal with dad constantly being on my case about everything and never living up to his expectations all by myself because my big brother, who’s  _supposed_  to be there, was never home. You used to stand up for me, protect me from him. You’d get him to stop yelling at me when my report card wasn’t all A’s like he wanted or stand up for me when I just couldn’t please him. You made that house bearable Jean, but then you left.” Turning to look at my brother he reminds me of myself now more than ever. He has the same sullen eyes that I’ve worn for years, blonde hair growing long enough to brush over his eyes, and hands clenched into fists at his sides to convey his frustration. He’s just like I was at sixteen, distant, cold, and without hope.

“I’m sorry Gabe. I should have been there, but it’s not like you think it is. Drugs weren’t more important, they never were. It’s just not as easy as everyone seems to think it is to get sober and  _stay_  sober. Trust me, I was trying the entire time I was away from home to get clean and get my life together. I just don’t want to see the same shit happen to you. It’s hell Gabe, it really is.

“If I could go back to seventeen year old me, I would never have touched drugs. I thought they would help me but they didn’t. I know how you feel, like the world is too much for you to carry and you’ll never be good enough for anyone, but getting high won't fix that. In fact it makes those feelings worse. Because then the moment someone finds out, you’ve just disappointed another person and you’ve failed again. I’ve failed everyone in my life purely because I was selfish and depressed and wanted to make those feelings go away.

“I know weed and heroin aren’t the same, but they might as well be. Both of them will fuck up your life in one way or another. Especially for people like us. We have a genetic predisposition to addiction. That’s why it's easy for Connie to be able to smoke weed once every few months and be fine, but for me once I do it, I can’t stop and then I have to do harder and harder drugs to get the feeling I want. Connie just doesn’t have the genes for addiction the same way we do if I put it in lame man's terms. I just really, really, don’t want what happened to me happen to you, okay? So I'm going to try to be better. I’ll be the older brother you need, the one I should have been all along” He’s not making a sound but I can see a trail of tears down his cheek. I put the car back in drive and pull out of the parking lot.

“Now let's go home and get that smell out of your room and get rid of that bag of weed. Sound like a plan?” I ask. He gives me a slight nod and wipes the tears from his face. I have a lot to make up for with him, but this is a start. 

Once inside I open his bedroom window and turn on the fan to help clear out the smell of weed from his room. I instruct him to grab the air freshener spray from under the sink in the bathroom and give his room a good once over while I take the bag of marijuana to the trashcan in the garage. Part of me feels like I’m doing something wrong by just tossing good drugs into the trash, but the other part of me is proud that I’m managing to resist my urges to take it for myself. I’ve come a lot further in my recovery than I thought I have.

“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” Gabe asks from behind me as I close his window, finishing our clean up just as our parents arrive home.

“No. There's no point in telling them, it will only make things worse.” I turn to face him, “You just gotta promise me you won’t do this again. Stay away from drugs, kid.” I finish with a ruffle to his hair.

“Thank you, Jean.” I give him a wave of my hand as I leave his room in an effort to tell him not to worry about it. I make my way down the stairs and into our work out room. I was pretty much the only person to ever come in here as I always was doing training for volleyball. One wall is lined with mirrors and another is stacked tall of various different weights. I add weights to the bar so I can do some bench presses. I was taking it easy in rehab doing only about 100lbs so I decide I should start with that for now and slowly build up my max again. I lift one round 50-pound weight on to each side of the bar and lay down under it. 

Slowly lifting the bar up off of the rack I lower it to my chest. With a deep exhale I push it back up and repeat. Doing this is helping me fight off the cravings. Today has been difficult. Between already itching for drugs and being left to my own devices and then having that conversation with my brother I could really go for getting high right now. But I promised everyone I would try to get better so I can’t. I’m going to be the son, brother, and now I guess boyfriend, I should have been trying to be this whole time.

I’m pulled out of my focus by my dad's presence in the doorway. Lifting the bar back up onto the rack I sit up and turn to face him. With the back of my hand I wipe the sweat from my face and tug at my shirt that’s now sticking to my skin. 

“Dinner is ready.” He says with a smile.

“I’m not really hungry, I need to finish doing this.” I say before pulling off my annoyingly wet shirt and turning to continue my bench presses.

“Jean you need to eat. You skipped dinner last night and it doesn’t look like you’ve eaten anything else in the house today. Your work out can wait, you need to come eat.” His voice is stern but I can tell he’s trying to keep it soft.

“It can’t wait right now dad. I know you don’t understand it, but in this moment, this is the only thing keeping me from relapsing.” as soon as the words are out I take in a breath and lift the bar up before bringing it to my chest. I hear my dad’s footsteps creep up behind me until He is standing above me.

“Your form is off, rack the bar for a second.” I do as he says and let him readjust my hands into a better position. I knew something didn’t feel right when I was lifting it but I wasn’t sure how to fix it. “Your hands were too close together, that’s why the bar was wobbling. Remember you want them to be about as far apart as they would be if you were doing a push up. Keep your shoulders square.” He continues to make minor adjustments to my form before giving me the cue to try again. 

It is significantly easier this time around with the little changes my dad made. I do a few reps before racking the bar again and sit up to face my dad. “Thanks dad.” I say sincerely.

“You could probably add more weight if you keep your form locked down. Just remember to not push yourself, alright? I’ll set some food aside for you kiddo.” He gives me a hardy clap on the shoulder, that’s pretty much the extent of the affection he shows most of the time, before heading out of the work out room. 

It’s hard to see sometimes, but I guess my mom is right. My dad is trying. He may not understand everything and he may not know how to handle it, but he’s doing his best. I’m thankful for that. Maybe things aren’t as bad as I think they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave any comments you may have and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can! Your time reading this is greatly appreciated!


	12. Suits and Dresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past always comes back
> 
>  
> 
> TW: Homophobic slurs are used

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was much easier for my to write than the previous one, and I like this one much more too. I'm still struggling and am facing a bit of writers block with this but I'm trying to get past that. Here's a nice long chapter for you guys!
> 
> A HUGE thank you goes out to everyone who has taken the time to read this, it means the world to me! You guys are all amazing and I can't thank you enough!
> 
> Join me on discord at https://discord.gg/URkYp5u it's my server for all kinds of different fandom stuff!

I flop down on the couch in Erwin’s office. Kicking my feet up onto the arm of the couch I adjust so as my shoes aren’t resting on it. At his desk Erwin is tending to his small plants. It’s been three days since I left rehab and this is my first therapy session since my release. I don’t know where to begin so I’m waiting for Erwin to prompt me into talking. He finishes watering his three small plants and takes a seat in his typical chair across from me. Crossing his legs, he looks at me expectantly. 

“You’ve been here for fifteen minutes already and have yet to say anything, Jean.” He says calmly.

“I’m not sure where to start coach.” I say while looking up to the ceiling, hands behind my head as I lounge on the couch.

“How are things going with your family?” He prompts.

“Okay, I guess. Mom and I are getting along well, dad seems to be walking on eggshells around me though. I overheard him saying some stuff to my mom that upset me and since then he’s been keeping his distance, somehow more than he did before.”

“What did your dad say that upset you?” He prods.

“He was telling my mom how he doesn’t like me dating guys and how I need to, in his words, ‘find a nice girl’ instead. It just sucks hearing that, you know? I’m just glad Marco wasn’t with me when he said that.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t imagine how much that would have hurt Marco to hear.

“Do you think your dad meant to say things that would upset you?”

“I don’t think that was his intention, but he’s never really been known for thinking about how his words affect others. He just says what he feels and deals with the consequences later.” I say. We talk more about how my relationship with my dad is going. I tell him how when I was working out instead of pushing me to stop he came in and helped me, something my dad would never have done a year ago. Because it's always been his way or the highway. But he’s trying to be more understanding and I think maybe he realized how much I needed to keep my mind, and body, busy that night.

Next, I tell him about catching Gabriel smoking with his friends. I feel like I handled it fairly well considering what was going on, but it really took a toll on me. It was really hard standing there with a bag of drugs in my hands and having to make the decision to not use it. And just seeing my brother following in my footsteps broke my heart. Coach tells me how he’s proud of me for how I handled that, especially given that I just got out of rehab. I don’t feel like I did anything outstanding though, I smacked my brother on the back of his head and yelled at him for smoking. I’m sure there was probably a better way I could have handled that.

After that I tell him all about Marco. I start with how he was waiting for me at the steps of the rehab center the day I was discharged and then walk through everything leading up to our good night kiss at his front door. My heart flutters just thinking about it and the entire time Erwin looks genuinely happy for me. If there’s one thing I know about my former coach, it’s that he’s a sucker for romance. 

Once I spill everything I feel like I have to say, I take a deep breath. I didn’t really think so much has happened in the few days I’ve been home until I started talking about it all. Erwin adjusts in his seat, reaching over to his desk to grab a notebook and pen. He scribbles down a few quick notes before looking back up at me.

“Are you staying on top of your medication, taking it every day?” He asks while twiddling his pen in his hand.

“Yeah, my mom has been making sure I take it every day.”

“How’ve you been feeling? I know you’ve only been taking it for a few weeks now, but do you feel like it’s starting to help?”

“I - I don’t know. I think so?” I pause trying to figure out how to say what I’m feeling. Erwin catches on and patiently waits for me to continue. “Like I went from pretty much feeling nothing all the time to... To feeling  _everything_. I’ve turned into a crybaby honestly. It feels like every little thing upsets me and I don’t know how to control it.” My words are punctuated with desperation. I really hate feeling like this all the time now. Feeling every emotion so fully, so  _intensely_ is exhausting. 

“Jean,” I snap out of my thoughts at my name and look up at Erwin, “I think you’ve always been more emotional than you realize.” I cock and eyebrow at him, not quite understanding what he means. I’ve never been this emotional before.

“Even back in high school when you first joined the volleyball team, before you involved yourself in drugs, you were quite the emotional kid. You just channeled all of those feelings into something else. When you were upset or angry you turned that into passion for spiking the ball. When you were sad or anxious you turned that into your drive to study and work harder. You’ve always been a lot more sensitive and emotional than you give yourself credit for.”

The more I think about it, the more he’s right. I used to just push my emotions aside and focus on other things so I didn’t have to feel them. At least that’s what I thought I was doing. But now I see I wasn’t always just bottling things up, I was using those emotions as fuel for other things, and now that I don’t have anything to channel these feelings into, they’re just eating me alive. I guess that’s why I broke down at dinner when I accidentally dropped my fork, or why when I stubbed my toe on the coffee table I was so inconsolably angry, and how every time Marco smiles my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest and I feel like I've never been happier. I hate feeling everything so intensely like this. I never realized that this is how I used to always feel everything, I was just different then. I found a way to make it work for me. But for the last year I’ve numbed any and all feelings that even vaguely enter my mind so I no longer know how to handle all of this. 

Erwin has been staring at me while I process everything. He lets a slight chuckle escape his lips as he watches the gears turning and things fall into place for me. I look up at him with a new sense of clarity.

“How do you always know everything, coach?” I ask dumbfounded.

“Jean it’s not that I just happen to know everything. You knew all of that too, but sometimes people need a little push to understand it themselves, that’s why I’m here. I’m not some know all god, I’m just a guy that is a good listener and can teach teenagers how to play volleyball.” He lets out another soft chuckle. We talk for a little bit longer about coping strategies and Erwin keeps telling me to use my resources when I feel overwhelmed. However, I  _always_  feel overwhelmed now. And then I feel even more overwhelmed when I try to fix it or talk to someone about it because I don’t want to be a burden or anything. I can feel my face contort into a look of annoyance at myself. This shouldn’t be so hard but it is. Why can’t I just do something so simple like telling someone I’m feeling bad without making myself feel worse? Why is everything so hard for me?

“Jean, is everything alright?” Erwin cuts through my thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, uh yeah, I’m fine. Just... Trying to process everything.” It’s not a complete lie, I am trying to file away everything from today's session, but I’m also going down the rabbit hole of my own thoughts and that rarely ends well for me. I stand up and smooth out my clothes before shaking Erwin’s hand. My allotted time for the day has run out so with that I leave his office. Technically I should just leave and go home, but There’s someone I want to see first.

First, I poke my head in her bedroom to see if she’s there. The only thing residing in her room currently is the well loved stuffed rabbit on the bed. Turning on my heels I make way for the common room. I spot Thomas and Samuel first, playing a card game like usual at the coffee table. Ymir is behind them reading the Trost Times on the couch. I don’t see Mina anywhere and when I walked past her room it looked fairly unoccupied. Maybe she also left rehab.

“Kirstein is that you?” Ymir’s eyes are peaking out above the newspaper in front of her face. I step to her and stop just short of the couch.

“You did tell me to come visit sometime, remember?” I say in a teasing tone. 

She playfully jabs at my stomach with a foot before sitting up and gesturing for me to join her on the couch. Thomas and Samuel put a pause in their game to join in conversation with us. We all catch up on everything that’s happened in the few days I’ve been away from here. I tell them about Marco and I and my brother's stupid decisions. Samuel tells me that Mina was discharged the day after I was so now it’s just the three of them. Ymir chimes in telling me that she’s supposed to get out in a week or two and she seems giddy at the idea. I spend maybe another ten minutes chatting with the three before I get a text from Connie asking if I can come over.

I slide into my Jeep and pull out of the parking lot towards Connie’s house. The drive to his place feels so natural to me, like it’s second nature. It’s a drive I’ve made hundreds of times, the streets and turns are etched into my mind. Navigating myself to his house I let my mind wander back to my therapy session. “ _Use your resources, Jean.”_ My resources, huh? It seems so simple, so obvious, but why is it so hard for me to do it?

I’ve really brought all of this on myself. I’m the one that decided to throw my life away and now I have to try to fix it. I feel like I don’t deserve to ‘use my resources’ because all that will do is burden others and I do enough of that already. I should be able to fix me by myself, right? No matter what I do I still feel like a complete failure though. Every time I do something right, another one of my flaws gets pointed out.

Pulling into Connie’s driveway, I realize I’ve let my thoughts run too wild. My heart is pounding in my ears and my hands are shaking. Quickly making my way into the house I scan the living room and kitchen for Connie. He’s nowhere in sight so I run up the stairs to his room. Frantically opening his door, I stumble in front of where he’s seated on the bed.

“Whoa, Jean what’s going on?” Concerned he stands up and places a hand on my shoulder. Wide eyed, I search his face looking for something to say. I open my mouth but it takes a few tries before my voice will come out.

“I - I don’t know. I think I’m having a panic attack Connie.” I’ve never had any kind of anxiety driven episode before. I’ve had my fair share of feeling anxious before but nothing like this. This is crippling panic and I don’t know why it’s happening. My heart is pounding in my chest, my hands won’t stop shaking, I can feel myself being covered in a cold sweat, and tears are pricking at the corners of my eyes. Connie guides me to his bed and sits me down on the edge. He sits himself down next to me and gently tosses and arm around my shoulder. Instructing me, he leads me through deep breaths to calm me down. 

It’s so hard to breathe along with him. He makes it look so easy. In and out, it should be so easy so why can’t I do it? I can feel it getting increasingly more difficult to focus and breathe the more upset and angrier I get. It’s like a never-ending cycle. I can’t calm down because I’m upset but I’m upset because I can’t calm down. In frustration I bury my face in my hands and attempt to breathe along to Connie’s instructions once more. All I can do is try regain control of my body and ride this out.

I eventually calm down and relax my breathing. My heart is still beating uncomfortably fast but that too is starting to subside. I take in another long deep breath, filling my lungs with oxygen until they can’t possibly hold any more. Exhaling I turn to Connie.

“What was that all that about?” He tries to say in a joking tone but I can tell he’s genuinely worried about me.

“I don’t know, it just sort of happened. I let my mind wander too much and I guess just freaked myself out.”

“What antidepressant are you on?” He asks with a sigh.

“Zoloft, 50 mg.” I respond.

“Sometimes SSRI’s like that can cause or worsen anxiety. That would explain the panic attack. Have you been having any other side effects?” He adjusts on the bed next to me so that he’s fully facing me, bringing out his ‘dad friend’ mode.

“I guess I have. I haven’t really been hungry lately and I’ve had a hard time sleeping. And well, this whole anxiety thing now too.” Connie just nods his head and counts on his fingers.

“This is what, your third week taking them?” I nod in affirmation. “Sometimes the bad side effects go away after the first month or so that you’re taking them, but I’d tell Coach or Levi about your side effects next time you see them. They might be able to help some way.” I let out a sigh at his words. The last thing I want to do is bring this up with anyone. I want to just push it under the rug and act like it never happened. I always did better when no one knew what was going on.

 

* * *

 

It’s after dinner when I arrive home. I didn’t tell my parents I was going to Connie’s after therapy so now I have to prepare myself for what’s to come. Fumbling with my keys I unlock the front door and welcome the warm air on my face. Glancing around I don’t see anyone so shutting the door behind me I turn to make a break for my room.

“Jean.” A stern voice calls from behind me Just as I take to the stairs. My feet come to a halt and I slowly turn to face my parents. “Where have you been?” My dad asks. His arms are folded tight across his chest. Standing behind him my mom is toying with a dish towel with a look of worry drawn across her face.

“I was at Connie’s.” I say shyly.

“Are you high?” He asks, a twinge of anger surfacing in his voice.

“No dad, I’m not high.” I bite back. I can see why he’s questioning it though. I disappear for a few hours and come home exhausted, red eyed from crying, and booking it to my room. I let out a defeated sigh. 

“Look, I don’t want to fight, okay? Today was tough and I just want to go to sleep.” I slide down to sit on the steps letting my chin fall into my hands, elbows propped up on my knees. My mom slings the dish towel over her shoulder and sits on the step next to me.

“What’s going on honey? You know we’re here for you.” She says softly. The words echo in my head,  _use your resources_.

“I had a panic attack today, after I left therapy. I guess I just let my thoughts run too wild and when I got to Connie’s I had a pretty bad attack.” My words come out soft, barely loud enough for them to hear as I stare down at the steps below me.

“You’ve never had anxiety before, what’s causing this?” My dad chimes in.

“Well dad, I have had anxiety before. Just nothing like this, I could always handle it but I couldn’t do anything to stop it today. Connie thinks it’s the Zoloft, apparently it’s one of the side effects.” I continue to tell my parents of all my side effects I'm experiencing at my dad’s request and my dad says he’ll call Levi in the morning to see what should be done about it. Drained from today's events, I saunter my way to my room and flop into bed.

**To: Freckles**

_Today was really hard for me_

I kick off my pants and pull my shirt off of my body. Plugging my phone into the charger I drag my heavy comforter over myself and wait for Marco’s reply. I haven’t talked to him much today, the last time we talked was right before my session with Erwin.

**From: Freckles**

_What happened? Are you okay?_

**To: Freckles**

_I had a panic attack at Connie’s after therapy._

Instead of a text message in reply my phone starts ringing. Sleepily I press the green accept button and put the call on speaker so I don’t have to hold my phone to my ear. I feel like I’m going to fall asleep any second but I force myself to stay awake to hear his soft, gentle voice.

“ _Jean are you okay? What happened?”_

“I don’t know, it just kind of happened. It’s never happened to me before but I’m okay.” 

“ _I’m sorry Jean, I know how scary those can be.”_

 _“_ How often do you get them, Marco?” 

“ _Pretty frequently, at least a few times a month.”_

 _“_ Are they always so exhausting?”

“ _Yes.”_

I let out a deep sigh. Having one that lasted maybe ten minutes today was a terrible experience and I never want to go through that again, I can’t imagine what Marco goes through having panic attacks multiple times a month. It makes my heart ache knowing he has to suffer through that. I don’t realize how long I’ve been silent and struggling to stay awake until his voice is calling out to me again.

“ _Jean are you there?”_

 _“_ Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

“ _Get some rest then, we can talk more in the morning. Goodnight Jean, I hope you can get some good sleep.”_

 _“_ Goodnight Marco, sleep tight.” The phone beeps indicating the end of our call. It may have only been a few minutes long and not much was said, but I feel better. There’s something about his voice that just finds a way to calm me down.

 

* * *

 

It’s about noon when I finally crawl out of bed. I throw on some sweat pants and the first tee shirt I find. Heading towards the stairs I stop off at the bathroom first to see what a mess I look like. My hair is sticking up in every direction, still in need of a cut as the top part is getting too long and my undercut is starting to grow out too much. I look obviously exhausted at my lack of sleep, but at this point I think the dark circles are just a part of me. Even when I am well rested, they’re still there. Turning away from my pitiful image in the mirror I head downstairs.

I'm met by both of my parents in the kitchen. There’s a feeling of tension sitting in the air. I think they pick up on my confusion because it doesn’t take long for my dad to start explaining.

“I just got off the phone with Dr. Ackerman. He wants to meet with you before your appointment with Dr. Smith tomorrow to talk about your medication.” Still heavy with sleep I nod my head in understanding. That doesn’t really explain why my parents are acting so weird right now though.

“What else is there?” I ask, voice gravelly. My dad sighs before answering.

“There’s going to be a business party here tonight.” Now it all makes sense. The last business party I was here for I overdosed in the bathroom.

“And I’m assuming I have to be here for it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“We’d like for you to be here, yes.” My dad replies. 

“We know it’s not something you’re fond of but if it will make the night easier for you, Marco is more than welcome to come.” My mom cuts in. A bit surprised, I look back at my dad who just nods his head.

“Y-yeah I’ll talk to him about it. What time is this happening?”

“Around five.” My dad answers. I give a slight nod before going back upstairs. I’m really not looking forward to this but hopefully Marco will be able to come and make it more bearable. There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by a bunch of suits and dresses and having to pretend I’m having a blast listening to them talk politics for hours. Not to mention I’ll probably get questioned about the last year of my life and my stint in the hospital and rehab center that I’m  _not_  looking forward to at all.

I shoot Marco a text with all the details for tonight and try my hardest to not sound too desperate.  While I wait for a reply from him, I decide to try and take care of the mess that is my hair. I go to mine and Sasha’s text conversation and ask her if she’s free any time today to give me a haircut. She’s been doing mine and Connie’s hair for us for the last few years. It looks just as good as it would if I had a professional do it, and it’s free.

**From:** **Potato Girl**

_Of course! I can be over in a half hour if that’s okay?_

**To:** **Potato Girl**

_Yeah that’s fine. See you soon._

While I wait for Sasha to come over, I get in the shower. I can already feel anxiety nipping at the back of my mind. I’ve always hated these business parties my parents held but it’s no longer just annoyance at having to act like the perfect son, it’s that everyone knows I’m not and the last one I attended I overdosed for everyone to see. I’m not prepared for tonight at all. The only thing I think that could make tonight easier would be to get high. I haven’t craved this hard in a few weeks.

 I gently rub the palm of my hand on the inside of my left elbow, a left-over habit from using. I never consciously do it, but it has always been my telltale sign that I’m itching for a high. It’s getting harder and harder every day to resist, especially when I could so easily go out and get drugs. This whole sober thing is harder than I thought it would be. Getting clean is the easy part, and even that is hard as hell, but no one ever says how hard it will be to stay sober. I don’t even know why I’m trying. At this point I don’t want to be sober anymore, it’s too difficult.

I shake my head under the flow of water to clear my thoughts. This is the kind of thinking that always leads to me relapsing. I quickly wash my hair and body before shutting off the water. Sasha should be here any minute as I spent a fair amount of time just standing in the water going down the rabbit hole of my thoughts.

“Jean, I’m here!” Sasha calls from behind the door. I roll my eyes and wrap the blue towel around my hips tightly. With a look of annoyance intentionally spread across my face I open the bathroom door to be met by a wall of cold air.

“Whoa there, save it for Marco buddy.” She teases before pushing past me and setting a bag full of her hair styling tools on the counter.

“Shut up, Sasha.” I feign anger but there is a smirk on my face.

“Alrighty, we doing the same cut as usual?”

“I guess so.” I say shrugging my shoulders.

“I have an idea! We can leave it a little longer on top than usual and then we can mess around with styling it different, maybe swooping it back and to the side a little bit?” She says while carding her hands through my wet hair to get a feel for what she has to work with.

“Do what you want Sasha, just don’t fuck up my hair like you did sophomore year.” She rolls her eyes and directs me to sit on the edge of the bathtub so that I’m short enough for her to work her magic on my hair. It’s oddly relaxing having her cut my hair. She’s gentle and the soft hums escaping her lips make it all the more enjoyable. I close my eyes and sit still, only moving when she directs my head to a different angle using her fingers on my chin.

It doesn’t take Sasha long to do my haircut. She leaves shortly after so I can have as much time to prepare for tonight as possible. I do have to admit, I am liking the way she cut my hair. It’s a bit longer on top than she usually cuts it but she swooped it off to the right just a tad. It’s not much different from how I usually do my hair but it’s just enough to be noticeable.

 

* * *

 

My parents' guests have already started to arrive meaning I’ll need to leave the safety of my room at some point. Reluctantly I finish getting dressed. I button my maroon shirt up to the second button leaving it open at the top and roll the sleeves up right past my elbows. I debate not tucking it into my black slacks but I’m already pushing my luck by not wearing a tie so with a sigh I stuff the fabric in. Glancing back at the navy shirt draped across my bed I start to second guess my choice of clothing. Would the navy be better than the maroon?

Before I can give myself any more time to second guess something as simple as my choice of shirts, I leave my bedroom. I’m met in the hallway by Gabe also leaving the safety of his room. He’s never liked these business parties any more than I do. Tossing my arm over his shoulder I walk with him to the stairs.

“We’ll be alright, kid.” I try to say cheerfully but it comes out a bit somber. Nodding his head in acknowledgment we walk down the stairs. All eyes are on us when we land at the bottom of the steps. It appears everyone has been waiting for our arrival. I can feel my heart start to race in my chest and my hands are starting to shake.

“Breathe, Jean.” I turn to face my brother who has noticed my hesitation and increased anxiety. His words were simple, but they seemed to be what I needed to ground myself. Looking back to the crowd of people in the house they have all returned to their conversations, completely blind to Gabe and I at the base of the steps. I take a deep breath and follow next to my brother as we infiltrate enemy lines. Weaving through the masses of people I can still feel my heart pounding harshly in my chest but knowing that Gabe is just as uncomfortable as I am makes this more bearable because I know that he’ll be there to help ground me if I need it.

We do as we’re supposed to. We make small talk with my dad’s business partners and put on a façade that displays how well behaved and mannered we are. Thankfully no one has asked me about the last year of my life so far and I don’t give them the chance to. After exchanging pleasantries, I make haste to move on so as not to be questioned.

_Bzz. Bzz._

**From: Freckles**

_I’m here, heading to the door now_

I break away from the crowd and stand at the door watching as Marco crosses the lawn. He has on a dark blue shirt which makes me sigh in relief that I didn’t decide to switch to my navy shirt last minute. Standing in front of me, he looks absolutely stunning. The dark blue of the shirt complements his slightly tanned skin. I don’t know what it is about seeing him all dressed up, but he’s more attractive than ever right now. I let my first real smile of the day slide across my face as he stands before me in the doorway.

“Hey there handsome.” I say slyly. A dusting of pink flushes his cheeks at my words.

“You look great Jean, I like the haircut.” He punctuates with that perfect smile of his. I already feel better now that Marco is here. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of my chest just at the sight of him. With my hand on the small of his back I guide him through the mess of people. Everyone’s eyes fall on us as we pass through but for the first time I don’t care. Because now Marco is by my side and everything feels like it will be okay.

For the most part no one says anything directly to me and Marco about our relationship. I hear some mummers in the back ground and shocked gasps from middle aged women who look like they’re never seen two gay people in real life before, but that’s about it. He and I continue to make small talk with the guests and though I can tell he’s nervous he doesn’t let it phase him too much. I link my pinky with Marco’s and lead him towards the kitchen to get a drink. We almost make it to the kitchen before I hear a familiar voice behind me.

“Fucking faggots.” The voice scoffs. Marco’s face drops to look at his feet and I can see the obvious hurt he’s feeling. Before I know it, I'm dropping Marco’s hand and turning around.

“The  _fuck_  did you just say?” Towering over the boy my words are hot and fiery. He’s the son of a business partner of my fathers, and the one person I refuse to take shit from.

“I called you a faggot, because you are one.” He lets out a cocky laugh. I can feel the anger building inside my chest. Clenching my fists at my sides my stare bores down into him. I can see his ‘tough guy’ act starting to crumble under my glare.

“Jean, just forget about it. Ignore him he’s not worth it.” Marco says softly behind me but the words don’t do much to stifle my growing rage. It would be one thing if he said it only to me, I could ignore it and go one with my night. But he said it to Marco. And the hurt and embarrassment on his face is too much for me to ignore.

“Yeah you should listen to your boyfriend, you queers.” He finishes by shoving me back and smirking, thinking he’s safe here. He thought wrong.

My body acts on its own and in an instant my closed fist is making contact with his face. The room around me falls silent for a moment as he grabs the collar of my shirt and shoves me to the ground landing on top of me. He attempts a revenge punch but with ease I turn the tables and pin the smaller boy to the ground under me. My nose feels like it’s on fire as in the reversal he managed to get an elbow to it but I’m unsure if it was intentional or not. I land one more solid slug to the side of his face before the sound of screams and shouts fill my ears and I feel someone wrapping their arm around my waist, pulling me off of the smaller bleeding boy under me. I stare down at the bewildered blonde on the floor as his dad pulls him to his feet. I instinctively flinch in fear when his dad steps towards me. Marco has released his grip from around my waist but a hand still lingers on my shoulder, as if he is preparing to hold me back once more.

“Out of my house. Now.” I wince at the words. I’ve heard them enough times by now that I can’t help but feel a pain in my heart. My gaze drops to the floor realizing how much I fucked up. I mean, I just beat the shit out of the kid of my dad’s most valuable business partner. Of course my dad want’s me gone.

“Mr. White you and your son are no longer welcome in my home.” My head snaps up at his words. I look at my dad completely baffled at what I’m hearing.

“Mr. Kirstein might I remind you that it was your son who just beat my boy?”  Mr. White responds with the same snarky attitude that his son sports. Pushing up his sleeves my dad steps in between me and the others, as if to protect me.

“Having heard what your son said, I find Jean’s actions completely reasonable. Now, no hate speech of the sort will be tolerated in my house. You may leave now.” His final words have an air of condescendence to them and I can’t help but let a smirk appear on my face. The two walk out of the house in silence. No one dares to breathe a word as we all watch them saunter away. 

Turning to me my dad places a gentle hand on my cheek. “Are you okay, Jean? You’re bleeding. Why don’t you go get cleaned up.” His tone has completely changed. It’s gone from angry and defensive to caring and soft. I give him a gentle nod and let Marco guide me to the nearby bathroom. He doesn’t bother to close the door, leaving the gathering of people in the living room still visible.

Marco folds up some toilet paper and instructs me to hold it at my bleeding nose. He inspects my face for any other sign of injury and carefully pinches down my nose to check if it’s broken. I lean against the counter holding the tissue at my nose waiting for the bleeding to subside. Marco takes up residence leaning against the wall across from me. He crosses his arms and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he mad at me? I know what I did was stupid but, in the moment, it seemed like the only thing to do.

“I’m sorry.” He says while looking up to make eye contact. Caught off guard I ask him what he has to be sorry for.

“I shouldn’t have told you to just ignore him. That was wrong of me. You were standing up for yourself. For  _me._  And I had no right to tell you not to.” He’s staring at me, waiting for a response. I pull the tissue away from my face. The bleeding has now stopped so I wipe away any reminisce of blood from my face and move to stand right in front of the beautiful freckled boy across from me. I place one hand on his waist and let the other rest on the back of his neck as I pull him down gently for a kiss. Nothing I could say would prove to him that it’s okay, that he just didn’t want me to fight and get in trouble, and I can’t be mad at him for that. But a kiss? That will show him that I’m not upset with him for asking me to ignore the kid’s homophobic calls. Some people have flight responses, and some have fight. I think we’ve found out what our responses are.

The rest of the night goes fairly smoothly considering the circumstances. Eventually all of the party goers start to file out of the house. As much as I don’t want him to, Marco has to go home tonight. I walk him to his car in the dark. Gently, I push him against the cold metal of the car door. He doesn’t resist and places his hands on my waist pulling me in closer until my body is flush against his. Looking up at him I can barely make out his features in the soft moonlight. A smile crawls onto my face as I move to place a deep, loving good night kiss on his lips. He tastes of peppermint chapstick and the smell of pine body wash permeates my senses. I wish I could live in this moment forever. Standing like this, with warm loving arms wrapped around me and the scents of comfort filling my mind, I have never been more content. For the first time since I started using drugs, I feel like I could give them up for good if it means I get to stay like this. 


	13. Florescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean deals with the aftermath of the business party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait! I have family in town for the holidays so I've been pretty busy.  
> This is a bit of a shorter chapter but it's one I've been waiting to write.  
> Thank you SO much to everyone reading, commenting, and leaving kudos and bookmarks! It means so much to me and I hop you are all enjoying it!   
> Please feel free to leave any comments and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can!

I can’t sleep. Sleep hasn’t come to me in days. Levi and I talked about how the Zoloft is affecting me but he wants me to continue taking it at least for a full month before considering stopping it. He says the bad side effects should mostly subside and doesn’t want me to give up on it just yet. I’m trying, but not sleeping, not eating, the complete lack of sex drive, and constantly being filled with new anxiety is getting really old. 

It’s been a few days since the chaos of the business party but things have been pretty okay. My dad didn’t even get mad at me for what happened, surprisingly. I’m still shocked by what happened that day. My dad actually defended me, protected me. That’s the first time since I was fourteen that he’s defended my actions and even my sexuality. We still have our problems, we bicker and argue a lot and we don’t always understand each other, but I can see that my dad really is trying to fix our relationship.

It’s somewhere around two in the morning, I’ve been staring up at my ceiling for hours begging for sleep to wash over me to no avail. I’m just so tired. And lonely. And craving. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes due to my complete frustration and exhaustion. I let out a deep sigh and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. Sitting up I throw my comforter off my body and carefully make my way out of my room. I don’t know why I’m doing this but my feet won’t stop moving. My heavy legs instinctively carry me to the right side of my parent’s bed where I know my mom will be sleeping.

“Mama...?” My voice is quiet so as not to wake my dad, but I think part of me doesn’t want to wake my mom either. 

She stirs for a moment before propping herself up on an elbow and looks up at me. “What’s wrong Jeanbo? What time is it?” her voice is soft and calming.

“I - I can’t sleep. I’m sorry I - I shouldn’t have woken you.” My voice is shaky and looking down I realize my hand is tracing over the inside of my left elbow once more.

“Jean honey, it’s okay,” she sits up and pushes the blanket off of her, gesturing to the space between her and my dad, “come here.”

Like a small child, I crawl into bed in between my parents. Gently my mom drags the blanket over my shivering body. I’m not cold so I can only assume the chills are from my lack of sleeping and eating. She settles down next to me and I can’t help but bury my face into her side. I feel as though I've regressed back to the five year old child I once was, but at the same time I’m too exhausted to care. Nuzzling deeper into the fabric of my mom’s shirt I listen to her soft hums as she lulls me to sleep with her hand trailing tenderly along my back. 

I wish I could say this is the first time this has happened, but in the three days since the business party this has become a regular thing. I can’t sleep alone anymore; my thoughts get the best of me when I’m by myself. For the better part of the last year I’ve slept in a bed that was shared with someone else whether it was Connie, Eren, or anyone else of my few friends. I know my dad is annoyed by it, he has every reason to be, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to be crawling into bed with my parents every night any more than he wants it but my feet carry me to my mom’s bedside before I even realize what’s happening.

I feel like I just closed my eyes to sleep when I’m being woken up by the blinding light coming in through the window. Despite feeling like I didn’t sleep at all, I am feeling surprisingly well rested considering I’ve been running on only a few hours of sleep for the last week. My dad rustles in the bed next to me and I feign sleep.

“Nadine he’s eighteen not four, he can’t keep climbing into bed with us in the middle of the night like this.” My dad sounds agitated.

“I understand that, but if this is what it takes for him to feel safe and keep him from relapsing then this is what we will do. You should be proud of him for even seeking support when he needs it.”  My mom retorts. My dad gives a huff before heaving himself out of bed and leaving the room.

“You can stop pretending you’re asleep now Jeanbo.” My mom says softly. 

I roll onto my stomach and lift myself up onto my elbows. My mom gives me a sympathetic smile as she reaches out to smooth my wild hair. Touch starved, I give into the contact and close my eyes in content. It’s nice just sitting here with her. We used to have ‘mother and son’ nights where she and I, and sometimes Gabe, would camp out in the living room and talk about anything and everything while watching movies.

 I miss those nights. It was during one of those nights that I sat there at fourteen terrified while I came out to her and was met with nothing but love and acceptance. It was during one of those nights that I cried in her lap over my first heartbreak when Mikasa rejected me. And it was during those nights in high school that I spent hours on the living room floor drinking wine and eating popcorn while watching crappy reality TV with my mom that I felt the happiest.

I have really taken my relationship with my mom for granted. She's always been there for me and has been so supportive but I never really realized it. Not until it was too late, anyways. I have always been too focused on the lack of relationship between my father and I to see that I should have been grateful for my relationship that I did have with my mom. During my volleyball tournaments I would only notice that my dad wasn’t there, not that my mom  _was._  I would be too upset at my dad scolding me and being disappointed in me to be thankful that my mom was there to comfort me. She would make me breakfast and pack my lunches for school before sending me off with a kiss on the forehead. She would stay up late just to make sure I came home safe when I was out with friends. She begged my dad to let me stay at home when I quit rehab the first time. My mom has always been here for me and I've been too blind to see it.

My voice comes out quiet as I ask my mom if tonight we can have a movie night. Her eyes light up at my question. I can feel a big grin growing on my face because I haven’t seen my mom so happy in such a long time. Eventually my mom retreats from the bed to go about her day. I, however, throw the blanket back over my body and welcome a few more hours of sleep.

 

* * *

The wine tastes sweet on my lips. Dark red swirls in the glass in front of me as I watch my mom sift through channel after channel looking for the best reality TV show for us to make fun of. Seated on opposite ends of the couch a big bowl of popcorn rests in between us with a bottle of wine propped up behind it, ready for our refills. I’m kind of surprised my mom offered me wine like she used to but I’m glad she did. I’ve been struggling to fight off drug cravings all day and the touch of alcohol in my system is finally giving me some much-needed relief and allowing me to relax.

My mom settles on a  _Real Housewives_ show before sipping on her wine and taking a handful of popcorn. It doesn’t take long for us to start making sarcastic comments. With each comment our wine glasses drain a little bit more and the overflowing popcorn bowl starts to shrink. I’m almost finished with my glass and I’m already feeling a warm buzz. I reach over and grab the bottle for a refill.

Between our laughter filled jokes about rich housewives my mom and I fall into comfortable conversation. I talk her head off about Marco with a stupidly big smile drawn across my face. I can feel a hot blush across my cheeks and I don’t even try to deny it’s because of the thought of his handsome freckled face. My mom smiles along with me as I tell her everything there is to say about Marco. For the first time in a long time, I feel like a normal kid again. This is how it used to always be. I knew I missed this, but now that I’m here spending this time with my mom and the warm buzz of wine is coursing through my system my emotions get the best of me.

“Jeanbo, what’s wrong?” Her voice is soft. I sniffle and wipe the tears welling up in my eyes,

“I don’t know mom. I’m just really happy right now.” My words come out choked as I try to hold back from crying. “Things have just been so hard lately, especially today. I’ve been craving worse than any other day so far so this is really nice. Thank you, mom.” 

She leans forward and carefully wipes the stray tears from my cheeks. She doesn’t say anything in response but that’s okay, I don’t really want her to say anything. I take a deep breath to help get my emotions back under control. Within minutes we resume our banter about the housewives on the TV and return to stuffing popcorn in our mouths and washing it down with wine.

His voice surprises both my mom and I. Our fit of laughter is cut short as his words ring out from behind us. “You should not be drinking that.” He moves around the couch to stand in front of us. His eyes are piercing as he rips the glass from my hands.

“Francois, it’s not a big deal. You had always been okay with this before. We’re just having some fun.” My mom defends.

“That was before he was a drug addict Nadine. Even you should see that giving him alcohol isn’t a smart decision.” His words are fierce. And hurtful, to both me and my mom. I can see her shrinking away in defeat. Despite my hurt, I find my voice to speak up.

“My problem is with heroin, not wine dad.” I bite back. He brushes off my words and goes back to berating my mom. I pull my knees to my chest and cover my ears with my hands, trying to drown out the yelling. French fills the air as my parents go at each other’s throats. I can’t take this. I’m so tired of all the fighting. Since I came home it seems all my parents have done is fight, and all because of me. 

It’s too much. Leaping from the couch I grab my keys off the counter and throw on a pair of shoes. I don’t think either of them notice through their shouts that I left the couch. I slam the front door behind me and make my way to my car. My heart is pounding in my ears and I feel a familiar anger budding in my chest. My jaw clenches tight when I hear the front door open behind me. 

“Jean! Get back here!” My father yells after me but I ignore him and pull out of the driveway. I’ve already made up my mind. I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t go a day without feeling like I’m being suffocated by my own thoughts, and I can’t even jack off to relieve any of this bullshit stress because the damn antidepressants have killed my libido. I can’t take  _feeling_  anymore.

I pull into a parking spot and quickly run up the steps to the door. I don’t even bother knocking because I know the door will be unlocked, they never bother to lock it. It’s quiet when I enter, the TV volume is low as Eren sits on the couch portioning out his supply of marijuana to sell.

“Jean, what are you doing here?” He seems genuinely surprised that I’m standing in the doorway of his living room. Brushing his hands off on his pants he stands up and makes his way towards me having obviously noticed my less than ideal state of mind.

“I need something Eren. I don’t care what it is I just need something. A high, a lay, anything. Please...” I sound more desperate than I want to, but damn it I am desperate right now. My hands are shaking with anger and intense craving.

He chews on his bottom lip as he comes up in front of me. “Jean... I can’t help you with this. I’ve enabled you for far too long and now you’re finally getting on track, I can’t let you just throw that all away. And I’m definitely not letting you screw up whatever it is you have going on with Marco by fucking me.”

I run my hands through my hair in frustration. This was supposed to be the easy part. I was supposed to be able to come here and get something, anything, so I can stop feeling all this bullshit. Tears begin forming in my eyes once more as I tug at my hair trying to get myself under control.

“Jean, have you been drinking?” His face shifts to a look of worry. Lowering my hands from my hair he continues, “Go home. Go home and go to sleep. Forget about whatever bullshit is on your mind right now, okay?” 

I can’t go home. Home is the last place I want to be right now. Eren’s lips are still moving but I don’t hear any of the words that are coming out. My mind is too fixated on the endless stream of thoughts running through my head. I need to silence them. They’re too loud. 

I shove Eren off of me. While lost in my thoughts he moved to hold my shoulders trying to get my attention back down to Earth. Within seconds I’m back outside where the cold breeze nips at my exposed skin. Ignoring my car parked in front of me, I let my feet carry me on their own accord. I’m trying to ignore the persistent buzzing in my pocket but give in.

“What?!” I bark into the phone, unsure of who is on the other end.

“ _Gabe called me and told me what’s going on. Where are you? Are you okay?”_ Of course, it’s Marco.

“I’m fine.” That’s the biggest lie I could have told anyone right now, and he knows it too.

“ _Jean please go home, we can figure this out.”_ His voice is pleading.

“There’s nothing to figure out, Marco. Once a drug addict always a drug addict, right? I mean that’s what my dad believes and maybe he’s right. You don’t want this Marco. You don’t want  _me_. You deserve better than some junky like me.” It hurts to say it, but it’s the truth. My words come out hot and angry. I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at myself. And my dad. And how My feet won't stop carrying me to the place I should definitely not be going to yet the place that I desperately need to go to.

“ _Jean, please,_ _Jea_ _-”_  I hang up before he can finish.

 

* * *

 

The bright florescent lights flicker above my head. I can feel the cold from the tiles seeping in through my clothes, sending shivers down my spine as I slide to the floor. I pull off my sweater and calmly roll up the left sleeve of my shirt. My right palm gently dances over the crook of my elbow. Blue lines of my veins creep up under the surface of my skin, begging for my attention.

Carefully, I line up the tip of the needle with the most prominent vein in my arm. I let out a hiss of discomfort as I push it through my flesh. Slowly I push down on the plunger of the syringe and the warmth of heroin begins coursing through my blood. It takes only seconds to begin feeling the effects.

For the first time since I’ve been sober, I feel great. All the stress and anxiety filters out of my mind leaving me to finally be relaxed and content. My shivers from the cold tiles no longer plague my body as I feel nothing but heat radiating pleasantly from my veins. I lean my head back against the wall and let the high take over as my eyes drift shut. The world around me seems to silence, as if this bathroom completely cuts me off from the rest of the world. 

It’s starting to feel like I’m in a fish bowl, isolated from the rest of the world and underwater. My chest starts to feel heavy and my breath shallows. It’s nice at first, like I’m floating along in my own little world but it soon devolves into a chaotic ocean storm instead of the peaceful fish bowl. This isn’t normal. This isn’t supposed to be happening. The euphoria begins fading as it’s replaced by panic with every breath I struggle to take in. My eyes are wide in fear as I fumble for my phone. It takes my hands longer than I wish for them to comply with my directions. I put the phone on speaker and rest it in my lap as I start nodding off and struggle to take in adequate breaths.

“ _Jean_ _!_ _? Jean are you okay? Where are you?”_ My dad’s voice is frantic.

“D- dad... I fucked up... I n-need your h-help...” The words coming out of my mouth don’t sound like my own. They’re desperate and slurred and barely above a whisper. I don’t hear his response as everything fades to black.

When I come to there’s banging on the door in front of me before it flings open in desperation. My vision is blurry, I can’t focus on the faces around me. Their voices are all muffled as if I’m still underwater in the fish bowl and they seem so far away, so untouchable. The weight on my chest continues to increase and finding air to fill my lungs is getting harder and harder. Hands clasp around my face, gently shaking me, trying to will me back to the world of reality. Through my blurry vision I make out the face of my father kneeling in front of me, face full of horror. Somewhere from behind him I hear another voice conversing with someone unknown. I try my best to make out their words.

“Yes... No he’s not responsive... He’s conscious, mostly... Yes... Heroin...”

The faint sounds of sirens surface in the back ground before I let my eyes faulter shut once more. My whole body seems to tense, muscles acting on their own. Frenzied shouts fill the room as hands land on my body moving to different positions. I stop trying to fight it off, and let the darkness overcome my senses once more.

 

* * *

 

Everything hurts when I wake up. There’s an ache coming from deep within bones. My lungs feel on fire. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed tighter with every contraction of the muscle. My head is pounding and my stomach lurches to my throat. Without thinking, I struggle to pull myself out of the bed and stumble to the bathroom across from me. Slumping myself over the toilet I heave up everything I possibly can. Though the nausea is subsiding, everything now feels worse. My entire body feels like I’ve been hit by a semi and looking down there’s a trail of blood coming from my right arm. No longer having the strength to hold myself up I collapse onto the ground and wince at the pain it brings.

“Shit. Jean, can you hear me?” My dad is kneeling next to me, gently shaking my shoulder. I give him a groan in response, too weak to say anything. With a sigh, he maneuvers his arms around me lifting me off the ground. I clutch the front of his shirt in my hands as I bury my face in his chest while he carries me back to the hospital bed across the room. My body shakes with the symptoms of withdrawal.

“Easy, Jeanbo.” My dad’s voice is soft. He brushes my hair away from my face and pulls a blanket up over me. Glancing around I realize where the trail of blood is coming from. In my urgency to relieve the nausea, I ripped an IV from my arm. I didn’t even notice the pain of it because my whole body already hurts like hell anyway. It’s so hard to focus on anything. I close my eyes to attempt to sleep while my dad runs his hands through my hair and a nurse replaces the IV. It’s unusual, but comforting for him to be here.

 

* * *

 

_Everyone is hysterically running, pained screams and_ _tortured_ _shouts ring through the air. Civilians everywhere are fleeing for safety from the giant monsters that are hunting us for sport. The blades are heavy in my hands, but the weight of humanity on my shoulders is heavier._

_With a deep breath I pull the triggers on the handles of my blades and soar through the air._ _Maneuvering_ _through the sky I dodge buildings as my fellow soldiers fall into place beside me. Ahead of us is one of them. A titan. The monsters arms flail as_ _it_ _runs through alley ways destroying everything in_ _its_ _path. Distracted by the abnormal titan below, I narrowly miss the grasping hand of a larger titan in front of me. The_ _soldier_ _behind me isn’t so lucky._

I wake up in a panic as images of people being torn to shreds by some giant human hunting monsters fill my head. It’s the same nightmare I have when going through every withdrawal. It feels so intense, so real, every time. I wince in pain as I turn on my side to bury my face in the body besides me. It’s not Marco, there’s no scent of pine body wash. It can’t be Connie either, he’s smaller than whoever it is that’s lying next to me. Carefully, I crane my head up to see who it is.

“D-dad?” My voice is hoarse. His only response is to pull me in closer and lull me back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_The battle is over. I don’t know if you could consider it a win for humanity or not. Bodies litter the streets everywhere_ _I_ _look. We’ve been tasked with the cleanup of the city. Identification and removal of the bodies of civilians and soldiers alike have become our new duty as opposed to fighting off the titans._

_The scent of burning flesh fills the air as corpses are continuously being added to the growing_ _pyre. The urge to throw up due to disgust of the situation grows in my stomach. The white cloth covering my nose and mouth doesn’t do enough to block out the scene around me._

_Body after body we continue through the city filling wagons with corpses. No matter how many I look at, it doesn’t do anything to desensitize me to the situation. The next body leaves me standing dead in my tracks. The brown jacket and white pants of the uniform are soaked in blood. His skin is unnaturally pales making the freckles strewn across his cheeks, or should I say cheek, stand out more than ever. The smile that once graced his face at every waking second has vanished, along with half of his body._

I shoot up in terror. The room is so dark I can barely make out my own hands in front of my face. My heart is pounding in my chest and I can’t breathe. If I take in a breath it will release the choked sobs that reside in my throat. Hot tears are sliding down my cheeks as I clutch at the scratchy fabric of the hospital gown on my chest with my weak shaky hands.

Despite my efforts to stifle them, pitiful whimpers escape me. No matter how much I tell myself it was just a dream, it’s not real and he’s okay, I can’t stop myself from crying. It felt real, and due to this being the worst detox I’ve ever gone through, my mind is already fuzzy and full of emotions. This is just pushing me overboard. I give in and let the hushed whimpers break into wailing sobs.

“Jeanbo, it’s okay. Everything is okay.” My dad’s voice is soft as he sits up next to me. I practically throw myself at his chest looking for some sense of comfort. He continues to whisper words of encouragement into the top of my hair as he holds me close gently rocking me. My tears soak the front of his shirt. Behind me a machine beeps sporadically with the irregular beating of my heart.

“H-he was gone... T-they got him...” The words come out gravelly through my sobs.

“Shh, everything is okay Jean, it was just a dream. It’s okay.” He repeats the words softly and sincerely, trying everything he can to sooth me. It doesn’t take long for the lights of my hospital room to flicker on and a nurse to appear. I can’t focus on what she and my dad are saying, all I can hear are the pathetic cries that emerge from myself. Slowly, my dad leans back and pulls me with him so we are laying down once more as a nurse fiddles with the lines from my IV.

It’s becoming easier to breathe and my eyes fall heavy. Now that I’m not focusing so much on attempting to breathe, I can feel the pain in my chest with every heartbeat. The heart monitor is still beeping without rhythm behind me.

“That should help. It’s just a mild sedative, it will wear off by the time he wakes up. We’ll keep a close eye on his heart rhythm though.” The nurse says matter-of-factly before exiting the room. With the sedative flowing through my body I don’t try to fight off sleep no matter how much I would prefer to stay awake. 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s eerily quiet when I wake up. My room is now lit fully by light filtering in from the window. With a groan I hoist myself up and tiredly rub at my eyes. The only other person in the room is my dad who’s starting to wake from his spot on the bed. I turn away to face the door, I don’t know if I’m ready to see the disappointment on his face yet. I’m feeling much better now, my body still aches like no other but it seems most of my withdrawal symptoms have finally subsided. 

“Hey kiddo, glad to see you’re finally up.” His voice comes from behind me as he lifts himself up to sit next to me.

“How long have I been out?” I ask faintly, still too afraid to look my father in the eye.

“Today marks day five. You’ve been pretty out of it for the last four days.” He says dolefully. Four days. I have never been through such a long and painful detox before. I let soft curses slip out under my breath.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“I called Conrad. He seemed to already know where you would be, he said someone, I think it was Eren, had called him worried about you.” He’s gently rubbing my back aiming to comfort me. “I’m not mad, Jean. None of us are. We’re all just happy that you’re okay.”

I give him a nod in understanding, finally gathering enough courage to face him. He looks absolutely beat. His eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark bags and his usually clean-shaven face is covered in rough stubble. Willing myself to take a deep breath I start, “I’m sorry dad. I-I fucked up and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“Jean. You couldn't have predicted this was going to happen, okay? So I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this. We’ll work everything out.” He interrupts. Returning my gaze to the door in front of me I sigh.

“I just want to go home.” My voice trails off so lightly I’m not even sure if my dad hears me.

“I know, son. We’ll get you home as soon as we can, I’ll go get Dr. Zoe.” He climbs out of the bed leaving the space next to me empty and cold and walks out of the room leaving me all alone.


	14. Stained Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean begins to deal with the aftermath of his overdose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I'm so sorry it's been so long. I've had a lot of personal stuff and writers block going on but I finally have a new chapter for you! It's a little shorter but I'm already working on the next one. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I want to give a BIG thank you to everyone reading, leaving kudos, commenting, and bookmarking! Please feel free to leave any comments you want and you can also come talk to me on my tumblr at unnamedface.tumblr.com

My memories from the last few days are hazy at best. I’m struggling to recall anything that happened but my mind keeps drawing a blank. The only thing I can remember is that he was there. Every time I remember waking up my dad was there, either actually in the bed next to me, in a chair holding my hand, or standing in my general line of sight. I can’t wrap my head around it. He actually was here, and  _stayed_  here. He didn’t yell at me like last time, there was no scolding over ruining the family image. He actually tried to comfort me. He said we’ll work it out, and I think he actually meant it. I could cry just thinking about how my dad actually does care about me, but I’m prevented from doing so when the door opens and Hanji slips into the room shutting it carefully behind her.

“I see you finally decided to join us again.” She says in a teasing tone. I roll my eyes in annoyance. She carefully sits at the foot of the bed and faces me, pausing before she continues. “We have a lot to talk about, Jean.”

“I know... I’m sorry...” My gaze drops down to my hands fiddling in my lap.

“You should be. You had us really scared Jean. I need you to really understand how serious this is. You’re extremely lucky. Had you not decided to get in shape again your heart wouldn’t have been able to handle all of this, hell it could barely deal with it as is.” She pauses to remove her glasses and rub her eyes before beckoning me to look up at her, “Jean, you were having a drug induced seizure when the EMT’s got there. If the ambulance arrived even a minute later than it did, you probably would have died. Do you understand that? You were sixty seconds away from dying of drug overdose.”

It takes everything in me to not break down on the spot but I can’t stop the flow of tears from my eyes. I fucked up. Bad. I knew I was overdosing when it happened, I remembered that feeling from my first overdose, I just didn’t realize how close I came to actually  _dying_  this time. I bite down hard on my bottom lip trying to swallow the sobs that want to come out. I sloppily attempt to wipe away tears but at the rate they’re falling from my eyes it’s pretty much pointless.

“It’s not all your fault though, Jean.” Hanji says, causing me to look up in confusion. “We ran a tox screen when you got here that came up with some troubling results. It wasn’t just heroin Jean. What you took was laced with a myriad of other drugs.” She continues on about how it’s not entirely my fault, it was laced drugs and a failure of a support system for me to turn to that lead to this. But in the end, I know it’s my fault. I’m the one that pushed people away when they were trying to help and I’m the one that decided to relapse.

We talk for a little bit longer about my state of being. I still feel like hell, it feels as though I’ve been hit by a bus and I don’t think I’ve ever craved harder in my life. She says if my heart rhythm stays normal and I can eat something, and manage to keep it down, I can go home tonight. She stands up to leave but pauses before exiting. 

“I’m going to talk with your parents and Dr.’s Smith and Ackerman for a while, but someone is here to see you.” I nod in acknowledgement.

Before walking away, I call back to her, “Hey Hanji? Where’s Connie? I figured I’d see him when the nurses were checking on me.”

“He’s laid up in bed. Fibro is kicking his ass today but he should be in for his shift this evening, if he can get out of bed.” With that she leaves the doorway allowing Marco to enter, closing the door behind him.

As soon as I see his face flash backs from the nightmares appear in my head. Images of him covered in blood and torn to shreds flash in front of my eyes. Reaching out, I gingerly caress his right cheek as if to make sure it’s actually there. The look on his face breaks my heart. It’s obviously he hasn’t slept in days, and judging by his pale completion and fatigued movements he probably hasn’t been eating well either. He tries to paint a smile across his face but I can tell it’s all too forced. With my left hand still on his cheek I gently pull him to sit on the bed next to me with my right.

It only takes seconds for him to collapse onto me, burying his face in the scratchy fabric across my chest. Lightly, I circle my fingers across his back attempting to sooth the hushed whimpers he’s trying his best to hold back. I can tell he hasn’t been taking very good care of himself these last few days, there’s only the faint scent of pine left over and his clothes are wrinkly and disheveled, having undoubtedly been worn for days in a row.

I let us sit like this for a while allowing him to release all of the bottled-up emotions from the last few days with no interruptions. He likes to act stoic, but under the mask he’s a scared kid who just wants some reassurance. He’s like me. I whisper soft apologies into his hair until he calms down. Maneuvering out of my arms he moves to sit next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder to pull me in close. I don’t fight it, and instead nestle into his warmth, feeling more comforted now that I’m the one being held.

“I’m sorry Marco... I didn’t mean for this to happen...” My voice is low and laced with shame.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He whispers into the top of my head. I take in a deep, shuddering, breath before I continue.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t have said what I did to you, I had no right to tell you what you do or don’t want. But... Marco this isn’t something that I’ll just get over. This isn’t like the flu or a cold. I’m a drug addict. I’m addicted to heroin. I’ll struggle with this for the rest of my life. I need you to understand that, and I get if that’s not something you want to deal with. I won’t blame you or be mad if you decide to leave and - “

“Jean,” he cuts off my rambling, “I know that addiction will be something you’ll deal with your whole life, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for it all, okay?” Carefully, with his fingers on my chin he directs my gaze up to meet his.

“I love you Jean, and as long as you’ll have me around, I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to go through this alone.” His voice is soft and sincere, his words dragging the tears back to my eyes once more.

“I love you too Marco.” I barely manage the words before I break our gaze and bury my face into his chest trying to will back the tears. Though it’s only faint, the scents of pine and laundry detergent swirling through my head send a wave of relaxation over me. I still feel like hell, my body aches down to the bone, my head is pounding, and it seems like I’m an emotional time bomb that’s waiting to explode any second, but being in his arms is making all of this a tad more bearable.

 

* * *

 

I try and fail to keep down my lunch. I’m hungry, but food sounds like the most unappetizing thing on the planet right now. I barely manage to get a few bites down before I’m rushing to the bathroom to let it come right back up. A nurse comes and disappointingly takes my picked at tray of food after my declarations of not being able to eat.

A few minutes later Erwin comes in. He calmly asks Marco if he and I can talk in private and Marco obliges, parting after planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Not eating?” He asks already knowing the answer.

“I can’t, I tried.” I say a bit on the snarky side as I avoid eye contact.

“Dr. Zoe said if you can manage to keep some food down and your heart rhythm stays normal, you can go home, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go home?” His therapist voice is coming out now.

“Of course I do. Why would I want to stay here any longer?” I say snappier than I probably should.

“Do you want to know what I think, Jean?” I nod my head in affirmation. “I think you’re scared of going home. I think you’re worried about the consequences of your actions and that you’re not yet ready to face them.” I don’t know how to respond so instead I choose to keep quiet.

“Dr. Zoe, Levi, your parents, and I have come up with a treatment plan we think will be most effective in helping you get sober and stay sober. It’s clear that the therapy only rout doesn’t work for you, and that’s okay, it doesn’t work for everyone. We want to try a medication and therapy combination.” I roll my eyes at the word ‘medication’.

“I’m not keen on medication, not after how the fucking Zoloft made me feel.” I scoff.

“I know, Jean. But hear me out, do you know what this is?” I look up at the orange prescription bottle in his hand and shake my head no. “It’s called Methadone. It’s an opioid that’s typically prescribed for pain, but also prescribed to people battling heroin addiction. It’ll act on opioid receptors, keeping you stabilized and minimizing withdrawal symptoms. However, because it’s an opioid and you already struggle with heroin, there’s a risk you’ll develop a dependence on it. If used properly, with this you have the chance of living a pretty normal life, and our goal is to eventually wean you off of the Methadone, leaving you to have a long, healthy, drug free life.”

I take a minute to process everything he says. It pretty much is sounding like this entire time there’s been one magic pill I could have been taking that will make this shitty addiction go away. But I was also told the Zoloft would make my depression go away, not make it worse.

“I’m not taking it.” I say sternly.

“Jean, we really think that this will be the most effective way of helping you through this addiction.”

“I said I’m not taking any damn medications!” I snap. I can feel the heat from my anger rising in my face as I cover it with my hands. I don’t know why I’m so pissed off about this, he’s only trying to help. “I’m sorry

...” I manage the apology a bit softer.

He places his hand comfortingly on my shoulder, “It’s okay Jean. I know this is a lot to take in right now, I shouldn’t have pushed you. Just think about it, okay?” With that he leaves the room once again leaving me alone. 

From behind the shut door I can hear everyone talking. Asking what I was yelling about, if I'll take the stupid pills, and if I can go home yet. I let the muffled sounds of their hallway conversations lull me to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty!” Connie’s voice startles me out of my slumber as he drops a tray of food down on the table beside me, and a stack of clothes at my feet. Immediately his arms are wrapped around my shoulders and squeezing me far too tightly.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Hanji said you were having quite the flare up.” He pulls away and starts separating the stack of clothing at my feet.

Connie has fibromyalgia. It usually doesn’t affect him too much, that is until he gets sick or stressed. That’s when it flares up bad and typically leaves him bed ridden. Thinking about it, I realize this flare up is probably because of me. I remember growing up he would have bad flare ups during testing seasons or when he had big projects. After my first overdose he started having them more frequently when I would be going through detox or even worse when I would disappear for a few days leaving him to stress over whether or not I was okay. Come to think of it, I’ve been a pretty shitty friend to him, and everyone else, this past year.

“Trust me I still feel like I’ve been run over by a stampede of wildebeests and I’m only doing a half shift. But I brought you some clothes to change into so you can get out of that uncomfortable gown.” He gestures for me to sit up at the edge of the bed. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Marco to bring you a change of clothes, I know how much you hate these gowns.” He removes the IV from my arm before his hands reach around my neck and begin untying the stiff knots that hold the fabric closed.

“It’s less embarrassing having someone who’s already seen me naked a hundred times help me fumble into clean clothes than someone I just started dating.” I respond while squinting at his blindingly bright pink scrubs.

 It’s embarrassing to say, but Connie has seen me naked more than I’d like to admit. During detoxes he was always around to help me change into something that wasn’t soaked in sweat or to even strip me down completely and throw me in the shower with the hopes of sobering me up a bit while also getting cleaner.

He gives me a soft laugh as he pulls the blue gown away from my body and helps me put on a sweatshirt. My muscles are stiff and every movement makes the aching worse. Slowly, he guides me to my feet only to have to lunge forwards to catch me as my legs give way beneath me. I didn’t realize just how weak I’ve become. I guess that’s what happens when I’m left to survive off of IV fluids for four and a half days. Once steadied, Connie pushes my boxers down, careful to be mindful and to not make a big deal out of it. As quickly as they’re dropped, they’re replaced with a new pair and he’s guiding my feet into a pair of sweat pants. 

I forfeited all rights to modesty when I became a drug addict. I don’t get to request the help of others in tasks like getting dressed or taking shower while still maintaining modesty and remaining decent. It just doesn’t work that way. I’m just thankful that Connie has never made a big deal about it. I’m sure it’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for me, so I appreciate his discretion. He loosely ties the strings of my sweatpants in a knot before pushing me back down onto the edge of the bed.

He sits in the chair next to me and tells me to at least try to eat. The food doesn’t look bad, a nice smelling soup and some bread, but I don’t know if I can force myself to eat. Reluctantly, I bring a full spoon to my mouth and attempt a bite. It doesn’t taste half bad, as good as you can expect from hospital food.

“Your dad is pretty upset.” Connie says quietly.

“Yeah no shit.” The words come out snarky.

“Not about what you think.” I cock an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue. “You never asked for him. When you were detoxing you were calling for your mom, me, Marco, hell you even asked for Eren, but never him. You asked for pretty much everyone else besides him. He got his hopes up a few times between your French mumbling, thinking you asked for him, but it always turned out to be for someone else.”

My heart plummets to the bottom of my chest. I know my dad isn’t always the first person I ask for, but to be told I didn’t once call out for him, especially when he had been there right next to me the whole time, makes me feel like the shittiest son. I let the spoon ungracefully fall the few inches from my hand back onto the tray. Worrying my bottom lip, I look up at Connie.

“Will you take me to the chapel?” My request catches him completely off guard as he fumbles out a reply.

 It’s been years since I’ve been to church, let alone asked someone to take me to a chapel. With strong hands he pulls me to my feet and keeps a hand around my waist just in case my legs decide to give out again. As soon as we exit the room, we’re bombarded by camera flashes and reporters shouting question after question. Immediately my father jumps in to do damage control and Connie tells my mom in hushed whispers where we’re going.

His hand drops from around my waist once we’ve entered the chapel. Its dead silent and we’re the only two living souls in the room. Light filtering in through the colorful stained glass brings back memories of my time spent between the pews growing up. I walk carefully down the aisle towards the cross in front of me, leaving Connie in the doorway. Taking a seat in the very front row, I pull the cross out from under my shirt. Toying with the cold silver I stare up at the tall wooden cross and glass in front of me.

I’m not sure what possessed me to come here, I haven’t been in a church in years, so why now? I stopped going to church because it felt pointless. I didn’t understand how a god would let me be in constant pain and let me ruin my life the way I have. Despite that, I’m feeling... Comforted. Something about being here, with my grandfather's cross in my hands, is making a wave of relief wash over me. I never realized the irony of wearing my grandfather's cross my whole life. He died with a drug addiction, and of course I had to fall down that path as well. I bring the cross to my lips and let a silent prayer come out over it.

Connie silently sits down next to me. I drop the cross to hang from my neck once more and lean in to rest my head on Connie’s shoulder. “Connie, why does God hate me?”

He sighs and swings his arm around my shoulder. “I don’t think God hates you, Jean.”

“Then why is my life like this? Why do I keep ruining everything good?” My voice is raspy as the words fall out.

“You’re not ruining everything. Sure, this isn’t an ideal situation, but it’s just set back. You’ll get back on track and we’re all going to help you.” I don’t say anything in response. 

We sit like this for a few more minutes before we wordlessly walk back to my hospital room, leaving the comfort of stained glass behind. Thankfully the crowds of reporters have left for the night so I don’t have to dodge camera flashes and questions as I enter my room. 

“I know you haven’t managed to eat much but I think Hanji is gonna discharge you in the morning anyway. It’s better to recover from this at home in peace than to be surrounded by people trying to get an interview.” Connie tells me as he tosses the blanket over my legs and bids me goodnight.

 

* * *

 

My steps are weak and shaky. If it weren’t for Marco’s hold around my waist, I probably wouldn’t have made it this far down the hallway. I’m just glad I get to finally go home even if the pilgrimage from my hospital room to the car in the parking lot feels like a thousand-mile journey.

The crisp outside air is a welcoming change from the thick stench of antiseptic from inside the walls of the hospital. I clumsily cling onto Marco, beckoning for him to pause for a moment.

“Jean are you okay?” He asks softly, carding a hand comfortingly though my hair.

“Yeah, just got a bit light headed ‘s all.” 

“We’re almost there hun, just a little further and then you can sit down.” His words are encouraging as he takes on even more of my weight in an attempt to make it easier for me. My parents are already at the car by the time we make it there, and judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, I’ve missed something important.

“Jean honey, you’re going to go home with just Dad and Marco and I will meet you guys back at the house.” My mom says. My eyes widen at the idea of this. 

“M- mom why? Why can’t we all just-”

“I have some things I want to talk about with you Jean.” My dad interrupts. I don’t fight it and instead just nod in understanding. 

Marco opens the car door for me and reminds me he’ll be there when I get home before parting with a kiss on my forehead. His unwavering tenderness is always a welcome feeling amidst the chaos of my life. 

My dad silently pulls out of the parking lot, following behind Marco and my mom. I leave my head to rest against the window as I wait for my father to break this uneasy silence that’s filling the car. I don’t know what I should be expecting. Is he finally going to yell at me now? Now that I’m no longer half dead in the hospital bed it’s acceptable to yell at me for this, right?

“I’m sorry,” His words drag me out of my thoughts. All I can do is shoot him a confused look, “I’ve spent so long focusing on how your addiction affects everyone else that I never took the time to see how much it affects you. Jean seeing you like that, writhing in pain and begging for it all to just stop, it broke my heart son. I should have been thinking about you this whole time, not an irrelevant family image or town gossip. You needed me and I abandoned you.

“I should have never given you the ultimatum I did. My father and my brother refused to get help for their addictions and it killed them. I thought I could just force you to be sober so that the same thing won’t happen to you, but I realize now that’s not how this works. I’m so sorry I ever did that to you. You needed my support and understanding, not to be kicked out. I’ve failed you as a father. No number of apologies will make up for it, but I promise you I’m going to try to be better for you, Jean. I’m going to be the father you’ve needed all along. I may not understand why you do some of the things you do, but I really am going to try.”

Why are my cheeks wet? When did I start crying? He cares, he actually fucking cares. All I've wanted my whole life has been for him to finally recognize that there’s more to life than politics and reputations. I guess underneath his ‘Mayor of Trost’ persona, deep down he really is just a caring father.

“I know I haven’t always handled things well between us, but I want you to know how much I love you and that I really am proud of you Jean.”

I scoff. “Proud? Of what? I’m a good for nothing drug addict there’s nothing to be proud of.”

“There’s plenty Jean. For starters, you called me. You recognized you were in danger and you called me for help. That right there makes me proud of you, because you chose to keep living. And despite everything, you’re still a kind and loving kid, not everyone in your situation would be able to maintain that. You make me proud every day son, I know I don’t show it, but you do. You and your brother both are the pride and joy of my life.”

“T-thank you dad...” I manage the words softly with a quivering voice. Eighteen years and all I’ve wanted to hear is that I make my dad proud. Through all of the straight A’s and honors classes, volleyball championships and scholarships, it's taken a year of heroin and two overdoses to finally hear those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave any comments or come say hi on my tumblr @unnamedface!


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